


By This We Know Love

by lilybeth84



Category: True Grit (2010)
Genre: F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-15
Updated: 2012-09-27
Packaged: 2017-10-23 18:43:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 23,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/253674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilybeth84/pseuds/lilybeth84
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She had always known she would never marry. Being lonely was just a part of her life, and she had never expected anything else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

Chapter One

In her delirium, Mattie was having a nightmare that she was being chased.

She was riding Little Blackie as fast as he could go--pain and the fear of their pursuer driving them forward.

"C'mon Little Blackie," she whispered into the panting horse's ear. "C'mon."

A few times she was brought out of the nightmare to realize that she lay inside a dark cabin smelling of smoke and stale sweat. Once she thought she caught sight of Cogburn's face, but before she could really be sure she slipped back into the darkness of her mind, and she was standing beside her horse as he lay on the snow covered prairie, frothing at the mouth in exhaustion. Their pursuer got off his horse and walked towards them.

She put her arms out as if to push him away, but it did no good.

The figure approached, his Stetson hiding his face. He took out his gun and fired a bullet into the head of Little Blackie. The man looked up and she saw the face of Rooster Cogburn, his one eye crinkled with weariness.

"Mr. Cogburn!" she cried, but no sound came out.

He suddenly strode towards her, his face melting into that of Tom Chaney. Fear washed across her, and she tried to back away. Her legs wouldn't listen to her.

"No!" she cried. "No!"

He was almost upon her when sleep took pity on her and she woke up.

"No!" she gasped out, lurching upright in bed into the arms of a man wearing a buckskin coat. His smell of leather and sweat was familiar, and his grip gentle. As she lay against his chest, panting from her exertions, she realized that she was in a great deal of pain. Startled, it brought her out of the last cloying fingers of sleep.

She ripped herself away from the man she leaned against, and looked up into the soft green eyes of LaBoeuf.

"Miss Ross," he began softly, but Mattie spared him only a glance as she looked down at her left arm.

But where her left arm should have been there was nothing below the elbow. The sleeve of her nightgown was empty, and there was no hand resting on the bed. Not believing her eyes, she thought she might still be in the nightmare.

"Mattie." LaBoeuf was saying her name. "Mattie."

But Mattie could only stare at her empty sleeve, her heart pounding with the throb of pain in the hand and arm she could still feel, but was not there.

Gritting her teeth against the pain, she looked back up at LaBoeuf, her mouth pinched into a straight line.

"Mr. LaBoeuf," she said steadily. "My arm is gone."

"It was the snake bite." LaBoeuf replied easily, though there was a tension in his voice that betrayed his anxiety. "Cogburn saved your life. Without him, you would not be alive."

"It hurts," she grimaced. "And I can still feel my hand."

"That is what those who have had limbs removed say. That they still feel it, long after it has been removed."

She stared at him. It was absurd that she should now have only one arm, and even more absurd that she should still feel the one that was absent.

LaBoeuf's own arm was in a sling, due to his shoulder being shot through by Rooster Cogburn.

"How did you arrive at Bagby's?" Mattie asked wearily, looking around the small cabin. "And where is Mr. Cogburn?"

This time LaBoeuf would not look at her. Instead he rose, and went to the small fire in the corner of the room. He picked up a wooden spoon and stirred the pot that was cooking over the flame.

"Are you hungry?" he asked, pointedly ignoring her question. "I made gruel."

"No," Mattie replied, impatiently. "But you are not answering me. Where is Rooster Cogburn?"

LaBoeuf left the fire and went over to a table where he picked up a small tin cup and poured her a cup of water. Only after he handed it to her and sat down next to her bed, did he look up.

When she met his eyes, she realized that Mr. Cogburn was gone. Gone and most likely not coming back.

"He has left, hasn't he," she stated.

"Mr. Cogburn left yesterday morning with no explanation. I do not know where he has gone," LaBoeuf replied with a sigh. "He sent Bagby after me, and here I am, charged with returning you to your mother. As soon as you are able I will send you on the train back to Arkansas."

The anger that had been building up inside her, along with the pain and exhaustion she felt, threatened to overwhelm her. She suddenly felt like a little girl again, and definitely not one with "true grit."

Fighting back the tears welling up in her eyes, she lay back down, and covered her face with her right arm. She did not want LaBoeuf to see her cry.

"My arm is in great pain," she said, trying to keep the tears out of her voice. "I will sleep now."

She pulled the patchwork quilt over her head, and let the silent tears fall on the place where her left arms should have been until she fell into a blissful sleep where no nightmares plagued her, and her body was still whole and unmarred by pain.

The next time she woke up, LaBoeuf was crouched at the fire stirring a pot of gruel.

Gingerly she sat up, supporting herself on her right arm. Her arm was throbbing less, and she felt in great need of a bath.

Her movement must have been heard by LaBoeuf, because he spoke to her without turning around.

"Are you hungry?" he asked.

"Yes. May I ask where we are, Mr. LaBoeuf? I was under the impression we were at Bagby's Outpost, but I have not seen another soul but you since I woke up."

"We are still at Bagby's," LaBoeuf replied, spooning gruel into a small tin bowl. "He has been kind enough to lend you his bed. He is staying at the trading post until you are well enough to leave."

"I see," Mattie said. "Then I must thank him for his hospitality before we leave."

In silence LaBoeuf brought the gruel over to her, holding it out for her to take.

"Mr. LaBoeuf, I have one arm," she said flatly.

"Pardon me" LaBoeuf said quickly, a dull flush blooming around his neck. "I am not used to taking care of others."

He sat down, took a spoonful of gruel, and blew on it.

As he performed these actions, she observed him: his face was tanned and weather-beaten, and his green eyes crinkled around the edges. She could also see the yellow bruising around his face from when he was dragged around by Ned Pepper and his gang.

He looked mostly the same, though there was a weariness to him that had not existed before they had set out to find Tom Chaney.

Still watching him, she took the mouthful of the gruel he held out to her. It was hot and tasted good, which somehow surprised her. She had not thought LaBoeuf would have known how to cook well.

"Do you not have family, Mr. LaBoeuf?" she asked, curious to what his answer might be.

"No, I do not," LaBoeuf replied. "As a Ranger, I do not have the time to take on a wife."

He said this as if it did not concern him, but Mattie could detect wistfulness in his tone that she was sure he was not even aware of.

"And how are you," she said suddenly. "Your shoulder is healing? And what of your tongue?"

LaBoeuf's face reddened slightly under his tan. It was obvious the incident still galled him.

"My shoulder will heal soon, as will my tongue," he admitted. "At least that's what the doctor tells me."

Mattie nodded.

"That is good. I am glad you will not be burdened with that awful lisp for the rest of your life."

For a moment LaBoeuf looked as though he would give a scathing retort, but one glance at the empty sleeve attached to Mattie's left shoulder seemed to change his mind.

"I have to go feed the horses." He said getting to his feet. "You are well enough that we will leave soon. I need to return to Texas to inform the Rangers of Chaney's death. They might be surprised to hear that the one who took his life was a fourteen year old girl."

"I am sorry about the loss of your reward," she said stubbornly raising her chin in the air, "but I do not regret that I shot him."

"Neither do I," LaBoeuf said pointedly, and putting on his hat opened the door. "I will be back before supper."

They left Indian Territory less than a week later. LaBoeuf purchased two horses for their ride to Fort Smith and enough supplies for one night.

Mattie was standing next to her horse wearing a red wool dress that was slightly too big for her, and her father's coat. Her pain had dulled to an ache, but she still tired easily and she was having a difficult time adjusting to not being able to do everything for herself.

LaBoeuf fed her and one of the Choctaw girls helped her to bathe, dress, and braid her hair. She also needed help cleaning her wound from the amputation. For someone used to being independent and taking care of others, it was maddening.

As she waited for LaBoeuf to finish packing the saddlebags, her thoughts turned to Little Blackie. Her heart ached as she recalled his foaming mouth and heaving chest in the last moments of his life. He had saved her life, but had paid for it with his own.

She rested her head against the chestnut colored mane of her mare, inhaling the smell horse and leather. It was comforting and she barely noticed when LaBoeuf approached her.

"It is time to depart," he said, placing a canteen of water in her saddlebag.

His bruises had nearly gone, and though he still spoke with a slight lisp, a sparkle had returned to his eyes. This made Mattie pleased, though she couldn't figure for the life of her why.

Nodding, she turned to her horse, reins in hand. Then the realization that she would not be able to mount washed over her in a wave of confused frustration. She loathed asking for LaBoeuf's help, but she couldn't see any way around it. Just as she opened her mouth to speak, she felt his presence close behind her accompanied by the warm leather smell that she had come to associate him with. Then his hands were gripping her waist and he was lifting her into the saddle.

"Oh!" she let out in surprise. It was a completely feminine sound, and she was shocked that she had uttered it. She twisted around to look at LaBoeuf and saw that he had already left her and was mounting his own horse,

She turned away to compose herself.

"I hope you can keep up," she said acidly, in her haste to recover. "I don't plan staying in this God forsaken land a day longer than I have to."

With that, she took off, leaving LaBoeuf to follow her.

They arrived in Fort Smith a little more than a day after they left Bagby's Outpost.

Mattie had ridden as far and long as she could until exhaustion and pain had overtaken her and she was slumped in her saddle, her chin resting on her chest. LaBoeuf had stopped the horses, and with gentle hands, removed her from the saddle. She had been briefly aware of the warmth of his chest and the strength of his arms, but had soon fallen asleep without the constant motion of the horse to wake her.

The next morning they had eaten a small breakfast of salt pork and cornbread before they had started again. Mattie had waited patiently for LaBoeuf to pack the bedrolls in the saddlebags, and when he approached her, she had placed her one arm on his shoulder and let him lift her into the saddle. She had ignored the feel of his breath on her cheek and the closeness of his body, though she couldn't help but be aware of it. Her heart had beaten faster, but if he had noticed he made no indication he had done so.

By mid afternoon they had reached Fort Smith. LaBoeuf tide the horses outside the train depot and went inside to buy Mattie a ticket to Arkansas on the evening train.

As the sun set, they were standing side by side on the platform waiting for the train. She heard the sound of a distant whistle, and soon the train was pulling into the station. She reached down to pick up her suitcase, only to find that LaBoeuf had gotten there first and was already striding towards the train.

"Seven-thirty train to Yell County! All aboard!" the conductor in his blue cap called out.

Mattie quickly hurried after him. He opened the train car door for her, and taking her hand in his gloved one, helped her up onto the stairs. He then placed her suitcase beside her.

Taking a deep breath, she stuck out her hand.

"I wanted to thank you for all that you have done for me," she said sincerely. "You are a man with true grit. If you ever find yourself in Yell County, you know where our homestead is."

LaBoeuf grasped her hand and shook it, his green eyes twinkling.

"Mattie Ross, you are the bravest person I have ever met. I wish you the best."

As the train started to pull away, he tipped his hat to her. She watched him grow smaller and smaller, until he was only speck in the distance.

Then he was gone.

She found herself a seat, and watched the night sky over the prairie turn to black.

As the train rolled east, Mattie closed her eyes and fell asleep.


	2. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

FIVE YEARS LATER

It was a beautiful spring afternoon. The bright sunshine beat down across the green prairie and the wind was gentle as it blew through the open barn where Mattie stood brushing the dapple gray, Lily.

Mattie was now nineteen, and a couple inches taller. She had learned to mount her horse with one arm, building her strength in both of her legs and her back, and she had learned to control and lead her horse in ways that didn't use hands and arms. All in all, she had become quite an accomplished horsewoman.

Her hair was still in braids though her mother tried to get her to wear it up in a bun, and her dark blue wool dress was plain with none of the decoration other girls her age wore. Mattie didn't mind, but her mother sure did.

"Mattie Ross, come up to the house this instant!" Mattie's mother's impatient voice carried across the wind from the house.

"Yes mama," She muttered under her breath, putting away her brushed and giving Lily one last pat.

As she made her way through the tall grass from the barn to the small whitewashed house, she noticed a buggy hitched up to the porch. It was a beautiful little thing, all shiny with leather seats and brass trimmings.

She was admiring it, when her mother came out of the house.

"There you are, you little goose!" she scolded, motioning for Mattie to come to her. "Where have you been?"

"I was brushing Lily," Mattie replied as she went up the stairs.

Her mother took one look at her and sighed.

"Look at you," she mourned. "With hay in your hair, and dirt on your nose. What will I ever do with you?"

"So I saw that there is nothing better than that a man should rejoice in his work, for that is his lot—"

"Don't you quote scripture at me, Mattie Ross," her mother interrupted, placing her hands on her hips. "Now go wash your face and dust your dress. We have a visitor."

Curious, Mattie tried to peer into the house, but her mother swatted her.

"No! To the pump!" she said sternly. "And for heaven's sake, take the hay out of your hair!"

Muttering about the state of her eldest daughter, she went back into the house while Mattie went down to the water pump in the yard. She scrubbed her face until it was pink, dusted her dress off as best she could, and took the hay out of her hair. Then she went back up to the house.

Sitting at the kitchen table was a neatly dressed woman in a wool suit and grey hair that was neatly wound around the back of her head in a bun. When she saw Mattie, her pale blue eyes widened and she stood up.

"My heavens," she exclaimed, "Is this Mattie? How you have grown!"

Mattie's mother smiled as she set mugs of steaming coffee down on the table.

"She takes after her grandfather, that one does," she said. "Not a lick of her father in her."

But Mattie was surprised to hear a note of pride in her voice. She had always been under the impression her mother despaired of her.

"Hello," she said to the woman.

The woman smiled back, and stuck out her hand. She hadn't even batted an eye on the fact that Mattie only had one arm.

"I am Evelyn Brown, an old friend of your mother's." she said. "I am heartily pleased to meet you."

Mattie shook the woman's hand, and they sat down at the table while Mattie's mother poured the coffee.

"Evelyn has offered to take you back to Texas with her," her mother said, putting a teaspoon of sugar in her coffee.

Mattie looked up from her own dark brew. Ever since her trip into Indian Territory, she took it black.

"Texas?" she asked in surprise. "What would I do there?"

"I am a teacher in Fort Worth," Evelyn said warmly, her grey eyes warm. "And I am in need of an assistant."

"Teaching?" she asked in astonishment. "But mama, how can you do without me?" She protested. "What about the horses?"

"I think Frankie can do quite well with the horses on his own," her mother said breezily. "And I have Victoria to help me."

"Then what of my arm?" Mattie protested, desperately trying to find a reason not to go. "Will they accept a girl with only one arm?"

Evelyn laughed, waving Mattie's concerns off with her gloved hand.

"Oh, my dear, you will be fine!"

So Mattie kissed her mother goodbye, and by nightfall she and Evelyn Brown were on a train to Texas. They arrived in Fort Worth the following afternoon, where she was given a small room at Mrs. Lee's Boarding House. Fort Worth was a bustling town, full of people and cattle. The train had just been put in, so more and more people were arriving every day.

Upon arrival, Mattie had found that the few dresses she owned were not suited for teaching, so she was forced to use some of the money her mother had given her to purchase new ones. She chose a sprigged muslin for summer, and both a dark blue wool with jet buttons, and red wool for fall and winter. She hadn't been able to convince Evelyn to get rid of the bustles, so she had to buy a crinoline as well. Evelyn had also wanted to try something new with her hair.

"You are a woman, my dear," she tsked, pulling Mattie's dark hair out of their braids. "You are too old to be wearing braids down your back."

Mattie hadn't argued, because she knew there was no point. Besides, it didn't really matter to her how her hair was done, as long as it was easier than sitting down in a crinoline and bustle. She loathed them.

But if there was one thing she loathed more than her skirts, it was teaching.

She didn't mind children as she had younger siblings of her own, but the work was tedious and it gave her a headache. Being cooped up in a stuffy school house was enough to drive her mad. And she was lonely. Evelyn was very kind, but she did not replace the warmth of Mattie's mother.

Mattie soon settled in, and began her new life in Fort Worth. The children she taught sums to were, for the most part, bright and eager to learn. One in particular, a little mute boy by the name of Harry Roberts, was very quick with his studies. He could do complicated sums at lightning speed and was a good speller.

He was also lonely. The other children had little time to spare for a child who could not talk, and his mother had to work for her living. He also had no father, just like Mattie.

Little did Mattie know that Henry would be the catalyst that would change her path in life to one where she would never be alone again.

That change began on a warm autumn day in early September. Mattie was on her way back from the post office when she heard gunshots ring out. That in-of-itself was not a surprise, but as she got closer to the schoolhouse, a sense of urgency built inside her. She quickened her step until she was running. As she turned the corner she saw a cloud of dust in the distance caused by the hooves of horses. In front of the schoolhouse was a crowd of people.

She pushed her way through the crowd and the sight that met her eyes there turned her blood to ice.

Lying on the dirt was Evelyn, her skirts splayed out and two bullet holes in her chest. She was still alive, but barely.

"Evelyn!"

Mattie ran to her, and kneeling down took the woman's hand her own. "Someone fetch the doctor!"

"It's already been done, little sister," a bearded man said to her, his tone grave. "But it ain't goin' to do her much good."

"Mattie," Evelyn whispered, reaching up and stroking Mattie's face, leaving a trail of blood on her cheek.

"Who did this," Mattie asked urgently.

Evelyn tried to speak, but only blood came out.

"It was the Roberts' Gang," the bearded man said heavily. "Robbed a bank not too far north of here couple 'o' days ago."

She felt Evelyn's hand come to her face. She looked as though she wanted to say something, so Mattie put her head down close.

"T-they took Harry!"

Harry. Harry Roberts, the little boy with no father.

Anger burning in her, she grasped Evelyn's hand and whispered fiercely:

"I'll bring you justice, I swear it!"

Evelyn smiled and with one last gurgling breath, was dead.

Mattie placed Evelyn's hands over her chest and slowly stood up.

"What man here will see justice done?"

The crowd shifted uneasily.

"The US Marshal is gone!" Someone hollered. "There is no one!"

"Then an able-bodied man, quick with a shot!" Mattie demanded.

But there was only silence, and anger flared in her at this familiar rejection. Just like they would not go for her father, they would not go for their school teacher. If they did not, she would.

In silence, she pushed back through the crowd, and walked steadily down the street to the boarding house, her thoughts racing.

If she did what she was about to do, her mother would collapse in a nervous wreck. But Mattie's sense of justice was greater than her fear over her mother's nerves, so she went up to her room and put on her coat and hat. After a moment's hesitation, she took out her suitcase from under her bed, and retrieved her father's pistol and a sack of bullets. Then she went around the corner of the house to the stable, where she saddled Evelyn's horse, Scout. She put everything in the saddle bags and mounted him.

"Steady boy," she murmured, as she swung up over the saddle, pushing her skirts out of the way. Leading the horse out of the stable, she took him out onto the street. With a shout of "Haw!" he sprinted forward, and they raced out of town in the direction she had seen the horses go.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Mattie caught up with the Roberts Gang along the shore of Lake Worth. There were three of them, resting their horses and laughing. Harry was sitting with one of the men, fear written all over his face. As she approached them, her gun drawn, they instantly stood up. One of them reached for his gun, but Mattie was too quick. She dropped the reigns and cocked her pistol.

"Don't you touch that," she commanded. "I'll shoot if you do.

The man slowly let his hand fall to his side.

Mattie's heart was beating, and her mouth was dry, but she wouldn't let the men see her fear.

"Well, look what we have here," One of the robbers said showing his crooked yellow teeth as he sneered at her. "Ain't you a purdy little thing. 'Cept for the arm, but that don't really matter."

He turned to one of his comrades, the one who was staring at Mattie's drawn gun. He was not smiling.

"Ain't she a purdy little thing, Bill?"

"Shut up, Stanley," Bill said, stepping forward.

Mattie pointed her pistol at him, but he only looked at her.

"What is it you want?" he asked, his voice soft but menacing.

"I want you to release Harry Roberts to me," she said firmly. "And I want the man who fired the bullets that killed the woman back in Fort Worth."

"Haha!" the man named Stanley laughed in disbelief. "You hear that Ned? She wants the man who killed that school teacher!"

The man named Ned, who had watched this exchange silently, cracked a smile that sent a chill through Mattie's heart.

"Shut up, Stanley," Bill growled out. "If you say one more word, I just might hand you over to her."

That shut Stanley up, the smile falling from his face. He looked into Mattie's eyes, and she could see crazy in them. In actuality, he reminded her of Tom Chaney, and men like Tom Chaney were much more dangerous than they appeared.

Bill turned back to Mattie, a small smile on his face.

"That him?" she asked, jerking her pistol in Ned's direction.

"Well, Miss-?"

"Ross," Mattie replied, keeping her eyes on him.

"Well, Miss Ross," Bill said. "Harry is my son, and I have rights—"

"Stealing a child from his mother and killing a school teacher are not rights," Mattie interrupted him coldly.

That so?" Bill replied, still smiling. "Well I don't think I'll be giving my son to you. In fact, I think we'll be taking you along with us."

"How did you figure that?" Mattie asked stiffening. There was something in his voice that made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end.

"Because there are four of us, not three," a voice whispered in her ear.

With a gasp, Mattie whirled around. But in that moment, she felt a sharp blow to her head and everything went black.

When she came too it was dark, except for the flicker of a fire a couple feet away from her. She was sitting with her feet tied together.

Her head was pounding, and as she tried to move, unbidden thoughts entered her mind and fear coursed through her. Had they dishonored her? She couldn't feel anything so they must not have touched her, at least not yet. Relief washed over her, but it was short-lived. One of the men had left the fire and was approaching her. She shut her eyes tightly and hoped he would think she was still passed out.

Her heart stopped for a moment, but then he turned around and walked back. As soon as his back was turned, she began to pick the knot at her feet. It was a difficult procedure with only one set of fingers, but she had had a lot of practice.

"She's still out, Bill," Stanley called out. "Lee must have hit her harder than he thought."

"I hit her as hard as I meant to Stanley, now shut yer mouth," The man named Lee growled out.

"Jeezus, I'm getting tired of everyone telling me to shut up," Stanley grumbled.

"Then maybe you shouldn't be so stupid," Lee shot back.

"Don't call me stupid!" Stanley yelled, and Mattie saw him whip his gun out of its holster. He pointed it at Lee. "You call me stupid one more time, and I'll blast your brains out."

"STANLEY!" Bill bellowed, coming forward. "You put that gun away right now."

Stanley whirled around shaking his gun at Bill, who stepped back raising his hands.

"You're always picking on me! You all are!" Stanley's voice was shaking, and his eyes were wild. Whatever sanity he had had, it was long gone. "I'm not going to take it anymore!" he shouted. "I'm leaving this gang! Now give me the money!"

"I'm not giving you the money," Bill said, his voice deadly quiet. "Now put the gun down."

Stanley stared at him a moment and Mattie drew in her breath.

"No," Stanley said.

And then he shot Bill in the chest. Mattie screwed her eyes tightly together as pandemonium erupted, hoping in the flurry of flying, she would not be a casualty. She quickly finished untying the knot.

Leaping to her feet, she found Harry's hand and pulled him through the smoke and dust looking for Scout. She was suddenly grabbed from behind, and Harry's hand ripped out of hers.

"No," she yelped in a furor, kicking out her feet. As she twisted in his arms, she got a look at her attacker. It was the man named Ned.

"Let me go right now, you pig swine!" she yelled, but he was too strong, and too fast, and soon he was on top of her, fumbling with the buttons on the front of her dress.

"No! Get off me!" Mattie howled, beating his chest with her fist.

"Shut it!" Ned growled, smacking her across the face with his hand. He then reached down and hauled her skirt up, trying to find the buttons to her drawers.

Mattie tasted blood in her mouth from where she had just bitten the inside of her lip. It hurt, but it was nothing compared to the revulsion she felt from Ned's roaming hands.

As she struggled, she felt the cool handle of his pistol in the holster at his hip. Taking advantage of the blood pouring into her mouth, she spat it straight into Ned's eyes.

Ned howled, and in the moment his grip around her lessened, Mattie reached forward and grabbed his pistol. It only took him a second to realize what she had done, but it was too late. She pulled the trigger and Ned slumped down on top of her.

Desperately, Mattie tried to push him off, but his dead weight was too much for her. Sobbing, she wiggled her way out from under him and stumbled to her feet. She looked down to find that she was covered in Ned's blood and brains. Harry was standing not more than a couple feet away, holding one of the dead men's pistols in his little fingers, his eyes wide in horror and shock.

Choking back the wave of nausea that threatened to upturn the contents of her stomach, she was just about to drop the gun when the sound of horse hooves brought on a fresh burst of panic. Whirling around, she saw a man wearing a Stetson riding up with his pistol drawn.

"Drop your gun," she ordered shakily, pointing her pistol at him. "I've just killed a man and I will do it again."

But then she saw the man's face and the gun fell out of her hand into the dust.

"Mr. LaBoeuf?"

"What in tarnation have you gotten yourself into, Mattie Ross?" He demanded, dismounting his horse. The fringe of his coat flapped and his spurs clinked, and when he looked up she could see his familiar green eyes and blond mustache.

It was him.


	4. Chapter 4

"I should turn you over my knee and beat the tar out of you, something you most heartily deserve," LaBoeuf said furiously, his eyes flashing in the light. "Coming out here by yourself with no lawmen. What the Devil were you thinking?"

"I—" Mattie began, but she was so overcome with relief, she couldn't come up with a snide retort, let alone an answer. Harry ran to her, burying his face into her skirt. Mattie sat down unable to keep her trembling legs upright any longer and Harry crawled into her lap without a word.

"Are you injured?" LaBoeuf asked, urgently. "Is any of this blood yours?"

Mattie shook her head. "No, it all belongs to that man there," she said pointing at Ned's body. "I shot him in the head."

LaBoeuf went over to the man and turned him over. Grimacing at the sight of his disfigured face, he leaned over to get a closer look.

"He tried to dishonor me." Mattie whispered, more to herself than LaBoeuf, but his eyes flew to her face.

"He did not succeed," she affirmed, looking away from him. Her heart pounding in her chest, she held Harry tightly. She did not want LaBoeuf to see how frightened she had been.

"It was a foolish thing what you did," LaBoeuf said, but all the anger had gone from his voice. "That man was Ned Parsons. He stands accused of rape and murder. He should have been hanged last year, except that he escaped from jail."

"That seems to happen a lot in Texas," Mattie muttered against the top of Harry's head.

"What happened to the other men?" LaBoeuf asked, checking the body of the man called Bill. He was either ignoring her comment, or he had not heard her.

"It is better to trust and take refuge in the Lord than to put confidence in man," Mattie quoted, but when LaBoeuf glared at her, she said "They found they did not trust one another."

"That is likely," LaBoeuf agreed.

"But, Mr. LaBoeuf, you do not seem surprised to see me," Mattie realized. "How have you come to be here?"

"I have been tracking Bill Robert's gang for a mighty long time." LaBoeuf replied, giving Bill a nudge with the toe of his boot, his spurs shining in the firelight. "I arrived in Fort Worth not long after you left. The townspeople kept speaking of the teacher with one arm that went tearing after the Roberts Gang, bent on justice. Something inside told me it could only be you."

Mattie didn't know what to say. She supposed it would be rare to find another woman with her temperament and description, but something inside her, akin to satisfaction, bloomed in that LaBoeuf would recognize her.

LaBoeuf chose that moment to come over and crouch down in front of her. Involuntarily, she felt her cheeks turn warm, and she was heartily glad for the first time that night that they were covered in Ned Parson's blood, so LaBoeuf would not see her color.

"You got any extra clothing?" LaBoeuf asked, his eyes lingering on her blood soaked dress. "Preferably some without petticoats and a bustle? I have to say, I am surely surprised to see you dressed so. Never would I have expected to find you in a bustle."

Her chin snapped up defiantly. But there was no jest in his tone, or in his face. If anything, he was surprised and….pleased.

"I teach arithmetic and grammar, and these are the required clothes of my profession," she replied haughtily. She scooted Harry off her lap and stood up. LaBoeuf followed. He was still taller than her, but not by more than a couple of inches. She could easily look him in the eye, which she did so.

"I do not own trousers, Mr. LaBoeuf."

"And do you usually make a habit of tearing around the country chasing after outlaws?" LaBoeuf asked innocently going over to his horse.

Mattie wanted to stamp her foot in frustration, but he took some clothes out of his saddlebag and handed them to her before she could decide how to respond.

"They'll be too big, but they are clean."

She took the clothing doubtfully.

"Well, as clean as anything can be when one is chasing after the lawless," he amended with a tilt of his head.

"Thank you," Mattie said. She leaned down and looked into Harry's frightened eyes.

"You stay here with Mr. LaBoeuf," she said firmly. "He is a good man, though his tongue is a trifle loose."

She looked up at LaBoeuf in triumph. He glared at her, and she turned back to Harry. In a softer tone, she said "I know him well. He is a good man, and he will not harm you."

Harry hesitated a moment, then nodded.

Satisfied, Mattie stood up. LaBoeuf looking slightly mollified said, "I will watch him well."

So Mattie turned and went down to the lake. It was dark so far from the fire, but the moon was nearly full, so she could see enough to bathe. She took off her dress and shoes, leaving her petticoats and corset. Shivering in the cold night air, she took a handful of sand from the river bottom and scrubbed her dress as hard as she could. Then she unbraided her sodden hair, and removing her petticoats, she stepped in the water clad only in her corset and drawers.

The water was freezing, and it took her breath away. Quickly she splashed water on herself to remove most of the blood. When she was done, she hurriedly pulled the dry clothes on and made her way back to the fire and the warmth it provided.

LaBoeuf was cooking stew when she returned, and Harry was sitting by the fire. Ignoring LaBoeuf, she took her sodden dress and laid it across the bush closest to the fire. Then she got her bedroll off Scout and rolled it out. When she sat down Harry joined her.

LaBoeuf glanced up from stirring the stew.

"Does the boy ever talk?" he asked.

Mattie shook her head.

"He's mute," she replied, and with numb fingers wrung out her hair and combing it out with her fingers. "His father was Bill Roberts."

LaBoeuf nodded. "I heard that."

He nodded at her missing arm. "You have learned to ride," he acknowledged, handing her a dish of stew. "And now you are big enough to shoot a gun without suffering from the kick."

"I have had plenty of practice on rattlesnakes," she said, spooning the hot food into Harry's mouth.

LaBoeuf left his gaze drift down to her empty sleeve for a moment before it returned to her face.

"There's something I can't figure. Why would you ride all the way out here, putting your virtue, if not your life in danger, for those who are not your kin?"

"Because there was no one else to see justice served." Mattie said without hesitation. "If I had not gone, no one would."

LaBoeuf was looking at her, a curious expression on his face she couldn't read. Then he gave her a smile and took out his pipe and tobacco.

"Why were you in Fort Worth?" he asked, filling the pipe. He lit it and took a puff.

"My mama wishes me to find a husband," she admitted watching the smoke rings disappear into the night air. "Though she never said that was exactly what I was to do, I knew her purpose."

She looked soberly back at LaBoeuf who was watching her carefully.

"But men don't want a wife with only one arm, so my mama's prayers will go unanswered."

LaBoeuf frowned at her.

"Then they do not truly know your character, or they would understand your other qualities more than compensate for the loss of an arm."

Mattie raised her eyebrows at him.

"Other qualities, Mr. LaBoeuf?" she asked genuinely surprised.

"Well," he said gruffly, emptying his pipe out into the fire. "You are brave, and loyal, though your shooting skills are mediocre at best, and your tongue is sharper than any two-edged sword."

Mattie was rendered speechless, but before an appropriate response could come to mind, LaBoeuf got up and left the fire, saying, "I must see to the horses. We leave tomorrow at dawn."

Mattie watched him go, then lay down on her own mat and pulled her blanket up around herself and Harry. Before she had time to consider any meaning behind his words, she had fallen fast asleep and knew nothing until morning.


	5. Chapter 5

LaBoeuf was cooking corn grits and salt pork over the open fire when she woke up, blinking in the morning sun.

"Morning," LaBoeuf said, with a wide smile. "Did you sleep well?"

"Good morning, Mr. LaBoeuf," Mattie replied, shaking Harry awake. "I did, thank you."

She folded up her blanket and bed roll and placed them on Scout. Taking a drink of water from her canteen, she caught sight of her reflection in the metal. Her hair was in tangles and there were smudges under her eyes. Grimacing, she combed through her hair with her fingers and braided it over her shoulder. As she was doing this, she noticed LaBoeuf watching her over his plate.

"Never seen a woman braid her hair before?" she remarked acidly.

"Still no sugar," LaBoeuf mumbled to himself, though she heard every word. "Not in a long time," he said louder, turning his eyes to his food.

She quickly tied off her braid and picking up a plate, served herself and Harry grits.

They ate and when they were finished they packed and tied up the dead men's horses.

Mattie placed her foot in Scout's stirrup and swung up over his back. LaBoeuf picked Harry up and placed him in front of her, his gloved hand brushing her thigh.

She looked at him sharply, but he had already turned away.

He mounted his horse and rode ahead leaving Mattie to follow.

When they arrived in Fort Worth Harry was returned to his hysterical mother, who wouldn't let Mattie go until she promised to stay for supper. Exhausted and filthy, she agreed. After she ate, she returned to her room at the boarding house and had hot water brought to her. She scrubbed the remaining blood and dirt from her body, fell into bed, and slept like the dead.

The following morning, she put on her red woolen and twisted her hair up into a knot on the back of her neck. After breakfast, she went to see the school board. They requested that Mattie stay on until a certified teacher could be found to fill Evelyn's empty spot. She accepted and headed to the post office to send a telegram to her mother.

There she met LaBoeuf, who had sent a telegram to his superiors in Austin informing them of the deaths of Bill Roberts and his gang.

"I assume you will return to Austin," Mattie said as she finished her post. LaBoeuf gently took her arm and slipping it through his, escorted her out of the post office.

Mattie was startled at his courtesy, but LaBoeuf either didn't notice or pretended he didn't.

"I have business to attend to which will keep me in Fort Worth for a couple of months." He announced as they walked towards the school house. "This morning I have attained lodgings at Mrs. Lee's, where I understand you are also staying."

"Yes," Mattie replied, looking at him curiously. "Her rates are too high, and her food is sadly lacking; I grow weary of only porridge for breakfast. But I am sure you will find her place satisfactory."

"I trust you have a room to yourself this time?" he asked, his eyes twinkling with humor. "That you are not sharing a bed with an old woman who snores and robs you of your blankets?"

Mattie stopped as the memory of the morning she had slept in and awoken to find LaBoeuf at the foot of her bed came back to her. She turned to him.

"Why, Mr. LaBoeuf?" she asked tartly. "Do you have a notion to enter my room and attempt to steal a kiss from me? I will remind you, I am no longer fourteen."

"No, that you are not," LaBoeuf, said, the humor gone from his eyes.

Slightly taken aback, she stepped away from him.

"I will see you at supper, Mr. LaBoeuf," she said primly, and picking up her skirts, she walked briskly towards the school house.

So Mattie took over the role of teacher in Fort Worth. The children responded well to her serious disposition, though it was different from that of Evelyn Brown. Mattie's mother had written back to her asking her to come home, but Mattie had refused, unwilling to let the children fall behind in their education.

LaBoeuf moved into the boardinghouse. Mrs. Lee, over the prospects of providing for a Texas Ranger, had done much to improve her cooking, and meals were no longer the lackluster affair that Mattie had described. Of course only when LaBoeuf was there. He spent days away at a time at his work, so when he was gone they returned to how they had been before.

Mattie told herself this was the reason she was always so glad when he returned, but truthfully, she missed him. He was something of a dandy and he made her temper flare, but his loyalty and sense of justice far outweighed his negative qualities. She had grown rather fond of him over the months she spent in his company.

One evening in December, Mattie entered the dining room for supper to find Mrs. Lee hovering over LaBoeuf like a hornet. He had been gone for longer than usual, and when she saw him, Mattie's heart leapt in her chest.

He did not notice her, so she stopped in the doorway to observe him:

He had recently bathed for his blond hair was still damp, his moustache was trimmed, and his cowlick combed. His coat had been brushed and he had respectfully removed his spurs as not to mar Mrs. Lee's table. He was a handsome man.

Before she could contemplate too much longer on LaBoeuf's handsome features, Mrs. Lee exclaimed, "Miss Ross, do sit down!"

"Good evening Mrs. Lee," Mattie said politely, addressing her hostess and the other guests. "Mrs. Brown, Mr. Leroy, Ms. Daniels."

She paused and met LaBoeuf's gaze.

"Mr. LaBoeuf."

"Good evening," LaBoeuf replied with an easy grin. He held her gaze as she sat down across from him, only looking away as Mrs. Lee brought supper to the table.

They ate baked chicken, roasted potatoes and carrots, and sourdough rolls with fresh butter. For dessert they ate chocolate cake.

LaBoeuf raised his eyebrows knowingly at her over his slice of cake, but Mattie only glared at him and finished her own cake with relish.

"I suppose she believes you are able walk on water," she hissed to him later as they were sitting in the parlor drinking coffee.

After supper, she had tried to escape to her room, but Mrs. Lee had procured her to help with serving coffee to the other guests. Now, she was sitting on a rather worn horsehair sofa stuck uncomfortably between Mr. LaBoeuf and Mrs. Brown, who was on the heavy side.

LaBoeuf grinned smugly at her, his arm pressing into hers.

"If the food is improved, might as well let her keep on believing."

"I do enjoy her chocolate cake," Mattie admitted.

"More than her conversation?" he whispered, his eyes twinkling.

The corners of her mouth lifted slightly and LaBoeuf pulled back.

"Well I'll be," he said softly. "You do smile."

Instantly, Mattie's mouth turned down, and she took a gulp of her coffee, scalding her tongue.

"Of course I smile," she whispered sharply. "I just don't usually see an occasion to do so."

LaBoeuf whispered back, "Then you should find the occasion more often. You are almost pretty when you smile."

Mattie pulled back, blushing, but before she could respond Mrs. Brown leaned over.

"What are you two whispering about?" she intruded. "I must know.

"Not a thing, Mrs. Brown," Mattie replied, a trifle flustered.

"We were discussing cake," LaBoeuf said good-naturedly. "Do you bake, Mrs. Brown?"

"Yes, of course I do, Mr. LaBoeuf!" Mrs. Brown responded, flushing with enthusiasm.

After a few more minutes of listening to Mrs. Brown discuss the finer points of baking, Mattie rose from the couch and said goodnight. LaBoeuf nodded at her with a smile. Still too self-conscious from their earlier conversation, Mattie couldn't bring herself to smile back. She went to bed.

Sometime in the early hours of the morning she awoke shivering from cold. It was snowing outside, and there was a draft from the window, so she decided to get hot coals for a bed warmer. Donning her slippers and dressing gown, and quietly slipped out of her room and down the stairs. The coals in the kitchen stove were banked, but she was able to retrieve hot ones from the bottom. She filled the bed warmer and re-banked the coals. Just as she was about to shut the stove door, LaBoeuf's voice came from behind her.

"Too cold to sleep?"

Stifling a shriek, Mattie whirled around, red coals scattering across the kitchen floor. One fell onto her dressing gown where it began to burn. She let out a small cry, and LaBoeuf was instantly at her side, smothering the coal into ash with bottom of his boot.

"Are you burned?" he asked in concern.

"No," Mattie replied, trying to calm the beating of her heart.

Taking the shovel and pan from the stove, LaBoeuf quickly scooped up the burning coals from the floor and deposited them back into her bed warmer.

"I did not intend to startle you." He said, glancing down at the charred fabric. "I am sorry your dressing gown is ruined,"

"It is no matter," Mattie replied gratefully. "I shouldn't have been so clumsy."

"Well, here is your warmer," LaBoeuf said, holding it out to her.

As she reached out to take it she noticed a change in his expression and his eyes drop from her face to her chest. It was then she realized that her dressing gown was wide open, revealing more than what was considered appropriate.

Mortified, she yanked the robe around herself. LaBoeuf returned his gaze to her eyes and cleared his throat.

"Goodnight, Mr. LaBoeuf," Mattie said as steadily as she could, and taking the bed warmer from his hands, she bolted from the kitchen.

Up in her room she placed the bed warmer under the quilt. When she stood up, she caught her reflection in the mirror on the dresser. The young woman that looked back had brown eyes that turned up slightly at the ends, a sober expression, and a pale complexion that easily turned sallow.

She was not beautiful and it had never bothered her before. But as she stared at herself, she felt a twinge of regret that she did not smile easily and her hair was not a different color.

With a small sigh, she got into bed where she fell into a troubled sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

When Mattie awoke, her immediate thought was how warm it was under her quilt and how cold the air outside was. Snuggling down into the mattress, she closed her eyes…and then remembered the night before.

She sat up quickly, her heart beating fast in her chest. As it calmed, she realized how foolish she was being.

It was not like her to blush at compliments or worry over her appearance. LaBoeuf had always enjoyed provoking her, saying her disposition was too serious. Usually she would not pay him any mind and she did not intend to start now. She did not know what had gotten into herself.

Giving her head a little shake as if it would restore her senses, she threw back the covers and slipped out of bed.

She dressed, her teeth chattering in the morning air. On bitterly cold days like this she wished she had help dressing. It was extremely difficult to put on her corset with only one hand, but luckily the invention of the spoon busk made it possible for her to do so on her own, as long as she kept the cords loose.

She put up her hair and splashed icy water on her face. Feeling less as though her brain was stuffed with cotton, she went downstairs for breakfast.

LaBoeuf was not there, and though she wasn't about to admit it to herself, she was relieved.

Seating herself at the table, she poured a cup of coffee.

"Where is Mr. LaBoeuf," she asked Mrs. Lee, who handed her a bowl of steaming porridge.

Mrs. Brown replied instead, her eyes lighting up with the prospect of choice gossip.

"He left for Dallas this morning. He had some business to attend to there."

"I see," Mattie replied looking at the bowl of porridge with distaste. "And did he say when he would return?"

"I don't recall…" Mrs. Brown murmured, drawing her brows together as if she were thinking hard.

"And how do you know of Mr. LaBoeuf's plans?" Mrs. Lee asked Mrs. Brown, wide-eyed with interest.

"He told me last night," Mrs. Brown responded importantly, "over coffee in the parlor."

Mattie took a spoon to her porridge. It had the consistency of glue, she noted glumly. She sniffed it. It smelled like glue as well.

"That man is a true gentleman," Mrs. Lee said. "A real catch for any woman so inclined."

"And handsome," Mrs. Brown added with a sideways glance at Mattie.

But Mattie was so intent on swallowing the porridge without choking on it she didn't hear this exchange, and their hints went unheeded.

Mrs. Brown returned to her own porridge, disappointed.

LaBoeuf returned that evening in time for supper, though not before Mrs. Lee had overcooked the dumplings

"Evening," he said, taking his hat off upon entering the dining room. As he sat down in his usual place across from Mattie, he met her eyes and smiled.

He was not behaving any differently than before last night, so she relaxed and nodded at him her acknowledgement.

"I trust your journey was not too tiring, Mr. LaBoeuf?" Mrs. Brown asked eagerly. "You must have left early this morning to return to soon from Dallas.

"I did," LaBoeuf replied amiably, serving himself. "I left not long after I met Miss Ross in the kitchen."

Mattie choked on her chicken.

Mrs. Lee, looking completely scandalized, leaned over and thumped Mattie on the back.

It did little to ease Mattie's coughing.

"And why were you in the kitchen so late?" Mrs. Brown asked slyly, looking back and forth from Mattie to LaBoeuf.

"It was a trifle cold last night," LaBoeuf said. "Miss Ross was filling her bed warmer when I got up to make coffee."

"Oh!" Mrs. Brown breathed out, her eyes wide in growing excitement. "And what did you do?"

"Mrs. Brown!" Mattie pleaded through her coughing.

"I saddled Captain Quantrill and left before the sun completed its rise over the horizon," LaBoeuf said, glancing at Mattie, his eyes full of humor.

"Captain Quantrill?" Mrs. Lee asked faintly, placing her hand at her breast.

"Yes, that is the name of my horse," He replied and went back to his dumplings.

Mattie glared at him, but he just smiled.

She finished her meal in haughty silence, ignoring him and making only polite conversation with everyone else. After supper, as the others adjourned in the parlor for coffee, she excused herself and went out to see to Scout. She almost slammed the kitchen door behind her, but refrained from doing so at the last moment. The last thing she wanted was for Mrs. Brown to think she actually cared a fig for Mr. LaBoeuf.

It began to snow as she stormed across the yard to the barn.

"Puffed-up peacock!" she grumbled, taking Scout's brush from its place on the barn wall. "He could not get away with such talk in Yell County that is for certain!"

She brushed Scout's hair furiously, her mind full of the horrible things she wanted to do to him at that moment. She seriously considered putting tar on his saddle, but before her plan could come to any fruition, he came out of the kitchen, swaggering as he always did, and whistling Camptown Races.

Her embarrassment of the previous night momentarily forgotten, she willed his fringed buckskin coat to burst into flame, but as it did not, she turned back to brushing Scout and ignored him.

"Mighty fine evening, Miss Ross," he said congenially, filling a bucket with oats.

"It's snowing, Mr. LaBoeuf," she replied scornfully.

But LaBoeuf merely nodded, saying, "So it is," and went to fill a bucket of oats.

He often teased her, but this was infuriating.

"What cockeyed notion entered your head, that you thought it a good idea to mention our chance meeting in the kitchen last night?" she asked him through her clenched teeth. "Are you deliberately trying to ruin my reputation?"

"Not at all," he said cheerfully. "But Mattie, I do not think that Mrs. Lee nor Mrs. Brown care much for your reputation. They are old ladies in need of a little excitement."

"Excitement?" Mattie exclaimed, appalled. "And you believe that we must provide them the fodder for such nonsense!"

"Where else would they find it if not in their guests?"

"Then I would ask that you not encourage such behavior."

"I need provide little encouragement. They do well enough on their own."

"You are very brazen, Mr. LaBoeuf!" Mattie said furiously, stamping her foot.

"Buck-up chickabiddy," LaBoeuf said fondly, turning back to Captain Quantrill. "I won't tell that I saw you in only your nightdress."

"You—you—Texas jaybird!" She sputtered out, and before she knew what she was doing, chucked her brush straight at his head. It hit him square on the back of his head with a large thwack!

He went face down into the hay with a groan, where he lay still.

"Mr. LaBoeuf?" she asked tentatively. Was he truly injured? She had not thought she hit him that hard. "Mr. LaBoeuf?"

He didn't answer.

Horrified, Mattie picked up her skirts and ran to his side.

"Mr. LaBoeuf!" she cried out, sinking to her knees beside him.

She pulled him over so that his head was in her lap. His eyes were closed, and it frightened her.

"Wake up, Mr. LaBoeuf," she said desperately, patting his cheek with her hand. "Please!"

Just as she was about to run for help, one eye opened, then the other.

"Mr. LaBoeuf?" she said hopefully, holding her breath.

Slowly a grin spread over his face.

For a moment Mattie stared at him in confusion, and then she shoved him off and stood up, her cheeks flushing.

"You are awful! I thought I had done you harm!"

"You have done me harm, though not as great as you feared," he admitted with a chuckle, sitting up and touching the back of his head gingerly. "You clocked me well, and tomorrow I will have a lump to show for it."

"And one you well deserve!" she snapped. "I find your recent tomfoolery very vexing."

But as she stared at his mussed hair and twinkling eyes, her anger dissipated, and scowling, she held out her hand. He grasped it and she helped him to his feet. He angled his hat on his head in a fine manner and grinned at her.

"If you get clobbered too many more times, you may end up with permanent damage to your mind," she said waspishly. "I don't suppose the Rangers would want a slobbering fool in their ranks."

"This Texas jaybird will heed your warning," LaBoeuf replied with a tip of his hat.

Mattie tilted up her chin, and picking up her skirts crossed the snowy yard to the boarding house.

Behind her, LaBoeuf watched her go, a tender expression in his eyes. When she had gone, he sighed and said to himself, "I hope you know what you are doing, LaBoeuf."

He patted Captain Quantrill on the head.

"I sure hope you know what you are doing."


	7. Chapter 7

Mattie had a pleasant Christmas in Fort Worth, even being so far away from home. Mrs. Lee cooked ham and potatoes, and Mrs. Brown baked a pie. LaBoeuf found them a scrawny pine tree which they decorated with cranberry garlands and dried oranges.

For entertainment, LaBoeuf regaled them with exciting stories of his time in the Rangers, fighting bands of Comanche and Apache Indians, and of hunting the outlaw Sam Bass under the authority of Captain Junius Peak.

Mattie listened to his stories with skeptical interest. She was sure he exaggerated in most, but the elderly ladies and Mr. Leroy seemed enthralled, so she kept her opinions to herself.

She preferred hearing the stories of his childhood in Louisiana with his three brothers, which he had spoken of to her on many occasions.

His mother had been widowed when he was only four, and later had suffered from seeing all of her sons go to war. They had all returned, though not without scars. LaBoeuf had been too young to see the beginning of the war, and had only joined up in the last six months. When he spoke of his time in Shreveport sacking oats for General Kirby-Smith, it was not without bitter regret. He had wanted to fight, but had not gotten the chance. Mattie thought perhaps, this was one of the reasons he acted so big—to cover up the shame he felt for not being in the Calvary.

After the war he had moved to Texas, where he sporadically fought in the Indian Wars. When the Texas Rangers were formed, he had joined to fight the growing problem of outlaws robbing banks and trains across the south.

As Mattie sat there pondering over his list of accomplishments, she realized she did not know what he was doing in Fort Worth. He was gone for days at a time, arresting outlaws and breaking up skirmishes between Indians and settlers, she had assumed. But now she wondered if that was all of it. He had never told her and she had never asked.

She decided to ask him over dessert, but he successfully evaded answering by taking a large bite of his pie, then jumping into a story of how he had been surrounded by five Kiowa-Apache warriors and escaped by the skin of his teeth.

Mr. Leroy and Mrs. Brown were thrilled, but Mattie had heard the story before, and with a sigh, excused herself to help Mrs. Lee make coffee.

"That Texas Ranger of yours is a mighty fine man, Miss Ross." Mrs. Lee said conversationally as she se the water to boil.

Mattie stared at her, her eyes narrowing.

"He is not my Texas Ranger, Mrs. Lee," she said in a sharp tone. "We had the occasion to meet five years past when my father was murdered by the outlaw Tom Chaney, and then again when Harry Roberts was taken, but that does not make him mine. The Lord knows why he is here in Fort Worth. He seems unwilling to inform me of his reasons."

Mrs. Lee glanced up at her with wide eyes as she poured the boiling water over the coffee grounds.

"My dear, he is a Ranger. Why he is here is probably under the cloak of secrecy."

"Indian skirmishes and outlaws are no secret, Mrs. Lee," Mattie replied churlishly. She knew she sounded childish, but she didn't care.

Over the coffee pot, Mrs. Lee was scrutinizing her in such a way that made Mattie uncomfortable.

"I'll serve coffee," she said quickly, taking the pot from Mrs. Lee and going to the parlor.

There LaBoeuf was doing an imitation that to Mattie looked suspiciously like a drunk man falling off a horse. When he saw Mattie, he grinned and said,

"I was just telling them him how "the sun" got in Reuben Cogburn's eye while he was drunk on whiskey and shooting at corn dodgers,"

Mrs. Brown was clapping with glee.

"Oh, how exciting!" she exclaimed as Mattie handed her a cup of coffee.

"As I recollect, you were drunk as well, Mr. LaBoeuf, and did not hit more than two in a row yourself," Mattie said to him as they sat down on the horsehair sofa with their own coffee.

"That is a falsehood, Miss Ross," LaBoeuf said seriously. "I was not drunk; I was suffering from my injuries."

"Oh, was that it?" she returned waspishly. "And all that whiskey you partook of with Mr. Cogburn and Captain Finch had no affect on your sensibilities, or your tongue for that matter?"

"As I recall, my tongue was bitten near through," he protested, spilling a little of his coffee.

"Yes, but it didn't keep you from using it," Mattie shot back with a triumphant look.

LaBoeuf opened his mouth to retort, but then had the grace to look sheepish.

They sat in comfortable silence, drinking their coffee until Mattie finally broke it saying,"I often wonder about Mr. Cogburn."

She could feel LaBoeuf watching her, and she was uncertain whether to continue, but the words spilled out under their own volition.

"He told me he would visit when he came to Little Rock, but he never did come, nor did he write more than a few words."

She looked up at him, her mouth dry.

"Neither did you. I wrote you once and sent the letter to Austin. I always supposed you would write back, being an educated man."

LaBoeuf was frowning at her in a thoughtful manner.

"I never received a letter from you," he said slowly, "though I was in Austin. What did you write?"

"Oh, this and that," Mattie said, brushing it off with a wave of her hand. "News of our farm, my sister Victoria, and Little Frank."

She didn't tell him that she had also written of how difficult it was to adjust to life with only one arm. How she had been learning to do basic chores again, how the phantom pains had interrupted her sleep and left her exhausted, or how much she would have enjoyed a visit from him.

Immediately after sending the letter, she had burned in embarrassment at how silly she'd sounded. She had waited for a reply for months, but had finally given up hope.

Truthfully, she had not thought about it in a very long time, and she was relieved that he had never received it.

"I am sorry I never wrote," LaBoeuf said, breaking her reverie. "I never thought you would care much if I did."

Now it was Mattie's turn to look sheepish.

"I said a great many harsh things to you, did I not?"

"And continue to say," LaBoeuf said cheerfully. "In the last week alone, I believe you have called me a rodeo clown five times, a Texas brush-popper twice, and a Texas-jaybird once."

He frowned at her in mock anger.

"What is this disdain you hold for Texas?"

Mattie allowed herself to smile.

"I have less disdain now than before," she said, mollified. "The people of Texas have treated me well, and for that I am very grateful."

"I am glad to hear it," LaBoeuf replied with a considerable amount of pleasure. "Very glad, indeed."

Caught up in the warmth and contentment of the evening, she didn't press him to tell her why he remained in Fort Worth.

She eventually discovered the reason, though it was a considerable time later. Much later than either could have anticipated.


	8. Chapter 8

Not pressing LaBoeuf about his stay in Fort Worth did not mean Mattie had forgotten about it, and ultimately her ignorance of the truth, and her naiveté in the matters of the heart had unintended consequences that neither of them could have foreseen.

Thrilled with the idea of matchmaking two of their very own, Mrs. Lee and Mrs. Brown had no longer felt it prudent to keep their opinions to themselves, and after Christmas, a rumor began in which Mattie and LaBoeuf lay rooted at the center.

Soon the entire town was speculating that the school teacher had managed to ensnare the Texas Ranger with hopes of marriage.

LaBoeuf had left on an expedition and had not been in Fort Worth when the rumor began. Mattie had not heard the rumor as she was not privy to the town gossip. Even so, she began to notice that people stopped talking moments before she entered a room, or regarded her with curious looks when they thought she was not looking. Finally, when a child at her school asked if Mr. LaBoeuf was "courting" her, and she made up her mind to speak to Mrs. Brown on the matter.

Needless to say, it did not have the satisfactory conclusion that she would have liked.

 

"Mrs. Brown, may I speak to you?" she said one morning after the breakfast dishes were cleared.

"Yes, or course dear," Mrs. Brown replied courteously, and led her into the parlor where they sat down. Mattie composed herself to be as even tempered as was possible.

"Yesterday, a child in my class asked me a shocking question about myself in relationship to the Texas Ranger, LaBoeuf." she asked. "What, do you suppose, is the meaning of her question?"

"Oh dear," Mrs. Brown said looking politely scandalized. Mattie could see full well, Mrs. Brown knew exactly what she was speaking of.

"As no one has yet informed me of my supposed attachment, I would very much appreciate if you did so," she continued firmly. "I do not like being in the dark about such things."

Mrs. Brown's eyes lit up at the prospect of becoming a confidant, and then she lowered them in feigned dismay.

"I have heard such a rumor concerning you and the Texas Ranger…." she said slowly, eying Mattie through her lashes. "….though I am reluctant to repeat such information, especially to one whom it concerns.

 _You cannot wait to tell me_ , Mattie thought furiously, and it was all she could do to keep from shaking the woman silly.

"Please, Mrs. Brown," she said through gritted teeth, trying to keep her temper. "Continue."

With permission to speak, Mrs. Brown could no longer contain her excitement.

"They say that you have placed your hopes of marriage on the Texas Ranger, and the reason he has remained in Fort Worth so long, is because your success is certain."

Mattie could only stare at Mrs. Brown, stunned.

"Is it true?" Mrs. Brown asked breathlessly, "That you mean to marry Mr. LaBoeuf?"

"No, Mrs. Brown, it is not!" Mattie choked out, finding her voice at last. "And I wish whomever the rumor came from would cease its circulation."

Mrs. Brown looked disappointed.

"Are you quite sure? He is a handsome man, and well mannered—"

Mattie could not keep a scoff of disbelief from escaping her mouth.

"—and as you have few prospects, Miss. Ross, you could not do better."

Mattie arched her brow.

"Pardon me?"

"What I mean," Mrs. Brown went on, oblivious to the injury she was doing to the pride of the young woman before her, "is that you have few suitors to choose from. None, if I am to be truthful on the subject. Now, I myself cannot see why…though it may be because of your shrewish manner, or perhaps because of your sharp…wit…but Mr. LaBoeuf would be a good catch for one such as you. And at thirty-five he should be settling down, not out chasing Indians across the prairies.

He is in need of a woman to tame him..." she continued thoughtfully, tapping her chin.

"And you believe I should be the one to do the task?" Mattie asked, unable to keep the sarcasm from her voice.

But Mrs. Brown only smiled condescendingly, the tone of Mattie's voice escaping her.

"No, dear," she said kindly, patting Mattie's hand. "You do not have the temperament for that."

She let out a short laugh, as if amused at the idea of Mattie taming anyone.

"All I wish to convey to you is that if he were to ask for your hand, you would be a fool not to take it."

Mattie, whose temper had been steadily growing during this last speech could do nothing but leave as fast as she could before she said something she would regret later.

Stiffly rising from the couch she said, "I must go to school now, Mrs. Brown. Please excuse me."

"Of course, my dear."

Unaware of anything amiss, Mrs. Brown beamed at her.

Mattie turned around and walked out of the parlor. She mechanically put on her coat and hat and left for the school house, her boots pounding on the frozen ground.

That tedious woman and her idle tongue! To be called a shrew, and implied that she was intolerable was forgivable, but to hear of supposed designs she had never had, and her lack of suitors so candidly discussed as gossip, was beyond insult. Was that how everyone perceived her?

Did LaBoeuf see her in the same way?

She felt pain at that thought and she stopped abruptly in the middle of the street. He often said her tongue was too sharp, but he had also called her brave and loyal, and said once she was "almost pretty."

Suddenly she was thrown into an uncertainty in his sincerity towards her. Could the kindness and friendship he had shown her the last few months be born out of nothing but pity for her situation?

Questions and terrible thoughts whirling in her head, she reached the school house where her unsuspecting children waited with wide and innocent eyes.

She lost her temper twice during lessons, sending one child into tears over a simple mistake on his slate, and she did not go back to the boarding house for lunch, eating only a soft apple and a small piece of cheese for her meal. If only to make matters worse, it began to snow on her way home, large wet flakes, and by the time she reached the boarding house she was exhausted and frozen to the bone, ill-prepared to handle what happened the following evening.

Poor LaBoeuf could not have been aware of the events of the last week, for if he did, he would have been wise enough not to approach her as he did. Any other time and she might have realized the tender sweetness that he would awake in her, but she was stubborn by nature, and when it came time for her mind to acknowledge what her heart knew to be true, she failed miserably.

She was feeding Scout in the barn when LaBoeuf returned from his expedition, covered in snow and wearing a sober expression. Mattie's back was turned to him, but she knew it was he by the sound of his clinking spurs.

"Mr. LaBoeuf," she said stiffly, not turning to face him.

"Mattie," LaBoeuf answered.

But his voice did not sound normal, and when she peered at him over her shoulder, he was standing with his hands at his sides looking slightly unwell.

"Are you taken ill?" she asked in genuine concern, momentarily forgetting her anger and confusion.

"No, I am not ill," he replied, but did not elaborate further.

Mattie returned to Scout, but she didn't hear him attend to his own horse. She turned back to find him staring at her, his hat now in his hands.

"What is it, Mr. LaBoeuf," she asked in growing irritation. Why was he being so strange?

He was silent a moment, and then said, "I can no longer remain in Fort Worth. I have been called back to Austin."

Mattie stared at him.

"I see," she said in a hollow tone, a strange buzzing noise filling her ears. "And when will you leave?"

"Soon," he replied.

Mattie nodded. She felt a little light headed. Was she ill? She felt her forehead. It did not seem warm.

"Do you remember what you told me last year?" he asked, interrupted her thoughts. "The reason your mother sent you to Fort Worth?"

Mattie looked up at him warily.

"What of it?"

"Have you ever been inclined to do as she wished?"

"You mean...that I marry," she stated, humiliation coloring her cheeks.

"Yes," he replied, scraping the toe of his boot in the dirt.

Mattie looked away, her heart beating hard in her chest. Why did he wish to speak of this now?

"No, Mr. LaBoeuf, I have not," she said. "It is unlikely that it will ever be fulfilled, and she well knows it. My mother has often despaired of me, and I have often disappointed her. But I have no illusions over what lot the Lord has granted me and I am content to be alone."

She could hear the bitterness in her voice and hated herself for it.

LaBoeuf took a step closer to her. She could smell leather and winter on him, and for a moment she forgot herself. His next words soon brought her back to her senses.

"You are still young and can say such a thing, but the older you get the loneliness you will have once thought of as tolerable eats your soul. The burdens you once thought you were able to bear alone become heavier."

"I do not see why that is any concern of yours," Mattie replied abruptly turning away from him.

"Do you not?"

She whirled back around, her anger flaring up. Her voice trembled as she spoke:

"Are you deliberately trying to provoke me, Mr. LaBoeuf?"

"No, Mattie," he burst out in frustration. "I am trying to ask you to marry me."

"What?" Mattie asked, aghast.

LaBoeuf tried again, but Mattie jerked away before he could speak.

"No, don't say it!" she cried. "Please!"

He looked as though she had slapped him.

"I see," he said in a tone of deep mortification, but Mattie was too upset to care.

"How could you?" she gasped out. "Do you feel so much pity for me, Mr. LaBoeuf?

He stared at her, his eyes widening.

"Pity?"

"Yes, pity!" Mattie cried, overcome with emotion.

All the pain and anguish she had hidden deep in her heart from the years of being overlooked in favor of one prettier and sweeter tempered burst forth, and she was incapable of perceiving him differently.

"Why else would you ask such a thing? I know I am not beautiful, nor in possession of a sweet nature, but I have my pride, Mr. LaBoeuf, and I would rather remain a spinster than submit to the humiliation of marrying a man because I had no hope of any other prospects!"

"That you think so little of me, I confess I do not know what to say," LaBoeuf said in a bitter tone. "I regret I wasted your time, Miss Ross."

Then he was gone out into the rain, leaving Mattie alone in the barn. Tears blurring her vision, she sank into the hay and placed her face in her trembling hand, unable to comprehend what had just occurred. She stayed there as long as she could, dread filling her at the thought of facing him again. Supper was half over before she gathered enough courage to enter the boarding house. But LaBoeuf was not there. She ate little and went to bed early. But she could not sleep due to the knot in her stomach and the ache in her heart.

Around dawn she rose and dressed, and went down to the kitchen. The house was still, but as she was pouring a glass of water, she heard the whinny of a horse outside the kitchen door.

Cautiously, she peeked out the window. There was LaBoeuf with his horse, saddled and packed as though he were never coming back.

Forgetting her fear and her coat, she opened the door and stepped outside. Even from a distance, she could smell the whiskey on him and it shocked her. Never had she known him to drink more than a few .

LaBoeuf looked up at her and stiffened.

"You—you are leaving so soon?" she stammered out.

"As I mentioned last night, I can no longer remain here," LaBoeuf said, his words slurring together slightly. "And as there is nothing here to keep me here, I must return to Austin. I have duties to attend to."

"I see," was all she said, unable find any words to refute his.

His face was drawn and the twinkle was gone from his eyes. He looked as though he had aged overnight in spite of the drinking.

With considerable difficulty, he swung his leg up over Captain Quantrill, managing not to fall off in the process.

"Well then, goodbye, Mr. LaBoeuf," she said woodenly.

He did not answer, and with a "giddy up," he rode out of the yard.

Mattie turned and went back into the house where she sat down at the kitchen table, shivering. She felt like crying out, but her eyes were dry.

The pain she had felt at his attempted marriage proposal was nothing compared to what she felt at his departure.


	9. Chapter 9

A week after LaBoeuf left Fort Worth Mattie learned that she was finally being replaced as school teacher and her services would no longer be needed.

That same morning she received a letter from her mother, once again asking her to return home. As she stared down into her mother's childish scrawl, the inevitability of her situation loomed over her, and she knew she could no longer stay in Fort Worth.

She quickly wrote her mother a reply, and putting on her hat and coat, stepped out to post it.

The sky was dark with storm clouds, but she had not thought to bring an umbrella. Sure enough it began to rain; large drops that dripped down from her hat onto her face.

She was surprised to find she was crying. Tears poured down her cheeks where they mixed with the rain, and then into her mouth where she could taste their saltiness.

She said her goodbyes to Mrs. Lee and Mrs. Brown (who cried), and took the train to Arkansas. After deliberating what to do with Scout, she had decided to bring him with her. The journey home was uneventful, and Mattie stared numbly out the window as the scenery passed.

Her sister and brother were at the station to meet her when she arrived. She was surprised to find that Little Frank had grown almost a foot in her absence and that Victoria was engaged to be married.

Married! Victoria!

It was not possible that her younger sister could already be engaged. But at sixteen ("Too young," Mattie sniffed, much to her sister's chagrin) she was, and would be married in September.

As Little Frank drove the team home, Mattie listened as Victoria chattered about her beau and all his attributes. His name was Samuel Graves and he was taking over his father's store in town. He was handsome, kind, and mother adored him.

Mattie could not help but notice how beautiful Victoria looked as she spoke of her intended. Her eyes sparkled and she almost glowed from within. Mattie felt a wistful tug in her heart, but she shoved it down. Even so, LaBoeuf's expression of surprise and pain as she refused him came back to her, and she did not hear Victoria until she was tugging on her sleeve.

"Mattie! Mattie, you are not listening!"

Mattie looked up into Victoria's pouting face and said, "Of course I was, little sister. I always listen to you."

Once again happy, Victoria looped her arm through Mattie's and began speaking of the house they were to live in and the drapes she would hang in the parlor.

The sun was setting behind the pine trees as they reached home. Mattie had not realized just how much she had missed her mother until she was in her strong and warm embrace.

"My child, how I have missed you," she whispered against Mattie's hair.

Mattie could not respond, for clinging to her. She was not one to give into emotional words, but she knew her mother could tell she had missed her as well.

When they broke apart, her mother held Mattie at arm's length in front of her and said, "Why, you have finally become a lady, Mattie Ross!"

Mattie snorted in disdain, but she could not help feeling pleasure at her mother's words. Too often she had seen dismay on her face instead of pride, so it warmed her heart.

"I have learned much," she admitted with a small smile. "Just as you hoped."

"And what of the Texas Ranger?" her mother asked, looking into her eyes.

The smile dropped from Mattie's face before she could stop it. She dropped her eyes as well.

"He has gone back to Austin," she said, her voice sounding forced. She was afraid to look into her mother's face for fear of seeing pity there.

"Well," her mother said briskly, dropping the subject of LaBoeuf, "let's get you inside. It's is cold and supper is waiting.

Then without another word, her arm tight around Mattie's waist, she led her eldest daughter into the warm house.

Mattie soon settled back into her life in Arkansas, though she missed Fort Worth and her school children terribly. She even missed Mrs. Brown, as much as she hated to admit it.

But There was much work to do before the harvest and Victoria's wedding, and it kept her from thinking about Fort Worth or LaBoeuf for any long period of time. In the evenings she would eat supper and fall into an exhausted sleep for a few hours before getting up the next morning and doing it all over again. She was not happy, this she knew, but she thought sooner or later everything would return to normal and eventually she would be content. But as the months passed, contentment never came and still life went on.

In April she turned twenty.

In July she oversaw the picking of the cotton and took it to Little Rock, where she got thirteen cents a pound.

In September Victoria was finally married, and left Mattie to sleep alone in the room they had shared almost all their lives.

The months had passed like clockwork, and it wasn't until one day in late October when she finally examined her heart and discovered the truth that lay there.

She was looking for a brooch Victoria claimed she had left in their room, when she caught sight of herself in the mirror above the dresser. For a moment she thought she was looking at a stranger, until she realized with an unwelcome jolt of surprise, that she was looking at herself.

There were dark shadows under her eyes and lines around her grim mouth. Her hair was pulled back in a severe bun and her skin was sallow. She looked older than her twenty years and deeply unhappy.

Mattie slowly sat down on her bed, stunned by how much she had changed. Had others seen the change in her as well? As she thought about it, she recalled that she had recently caught her mother watching her when she thought she wasn't looking, an expression of worry etched on her face. And the night before her wedding, Victoria had squeezed her hand and asked Mattie if she would be alright without her.

Mattie took a deep breath and let it out slowly, and with it the tension she had been holding in her for months.

She had always known she would never marry, and had resigned herself to it at a very young age. Being lonely was just a part of her life, and she had never expected anything else.

But then LaBoeuf had entered her life a second time, and she had been…happy.

As she sat there in the fading twilight filled with a strange sort of emptiness, she wondered where he was and what he was doing. Was he still working for the Rangers? Had he finally met his end at the hands of a Comanche or the gun of an outlaw?

Had he married another?

That last thought caused her such physical pain she let out a sob and placed her hand over her mouth to stifle the noise. Her emotional reaction shook her to her core, and it was in that startling moment that she realized she was in love with him and had been for a very long time.

She had loved him since the day he put her on the train to Arkansas, sending her home with one arm, but leaving her pride intact as he had called her the bravest woman he knew. She had not known it then, but she knew now her heart had been lost to him at that moment, and as she thought back to her reaction to his attempted his proposal she burned in shame.

Oh, God! What a fool she had been!

She had been afraid of what his true intentions might be, and to protect herself she had pushed him away, not realizing he was one that could make her truly happy. Even if he did not love her with the depth that she did him, it did not mean that his regard for her was any less real or genuine.

Almost a year had passed, and she had missed her chance at happiness.

She lay back on the bed, sobs wracking her body in agony. She ignored her mother's calls and her brother's knocks. For hours she cried and when there were no tears left, she slept.

When she awoke it was dark and the house was silent. Splashing water on her face, she went out to find her mother and brother had gone to bed. There was a dish of stew on the kitchen table, which she ate hungrily. After she finished, she put on her coat and lit a lamp which she carried down to the stables.

Scout was asleep, but woke when she placed her hand on his mane. Putting her face up against his warm body, she stood there for a very long time.

As the sun rose, she had made a decision: she would not remain a passive bystander in life any longer. There was still a chance, however small that he still cared for her, so she would seize her happiness if it was still available. If it were not, she could live out the rest of her life knowing she hadn't been a coward.

She would go to Austin and find LaBoeuf.


	10. Chapter 10

It took two days by train for Mattie to get to Austin, though it felt much longer.

Her mother had kissed her goodbye after making her promise to bring LaBoeuf back to Arkansas when she could. She had packed lightly, though at the last minute she included her father's pistol inside her satchel along with her toiletries. Somehow it was comforting to know it was there, though she couldn't put into words why that was so.

She didn't sleep well on the train due to a crying baby coupled with her anxious thoughts, so when the train pulled into the station she was exhausted. The sky was white with impending snow and the air was bitterly cold. She wrapped her coat tightly around her body and went to find the station agent.

She immediately asked him where the Rangers kept their headquarters, and having obtained directions, set off on foot through the sparsely crowded streets. She found it exactly where he had told her and, her stomach flip-flopping, went up the stairs and opened the large wooden door.

Upon entering, a young man in the front immediately stood up, removing his hat.

"Please, I must speak to the Ranger LaBoeuf," she said in polite urgency. "Will you tell me where I might find him?"

The man, taken aback by her directness, noted her missing arm. His eyes widened in recognition.

"One moment, miss," she man replied, and left her for a minute before returning.

"Please follow me. My captain wishes to speak to you."

Mattie followed the man back to an office where a man, surprisingly young for a captain, greeted her and removed his hat.

"You must be Mattie Ross," he said offering her a chair.

Mattie eyed the man suspiciously, declining his offer with a slight shake of her head. She was too fidgety to sit down.

"Pardon me, but how do you know my name?" she asked, unable to keep her curiosity out of her voice.

The Ranger smiled at her with far more understanding that she felt comfortable with.

"Every Ranger knows who you are Miss Ross. You are the woman who shot Tom Chaney." He nodded at her empty coat sleeve. "And that is how I know you are she."

Mattie didn't know what to say to that.

"My name is Titus Crawford," he said, tipping his hat."At your service."

"Pleased to meet you Mr. Crawford," Mattie acknowledged, "but I am looking for Mr. LaBoeuf. Can you tell me where I might find him?"

The Captain shook his head regretfully.

"I'm sorry Miss Ross, but LaBoeuf rode out of here this morning chasing three men who left a man dead in a saloon after their poker game went bad. Never even waited for backup before he tore out."

He played with his hat, as if trying to find the right words.

"You should know Miss Ross, he has been reckless," he said finally, "as if he didn't care if he were killed or not."

He slicked back his hair with one hand, and looked down at his hat.

"It ain't my place—"

"Please," Mattie said hurriedly, taking a step towards him.

"—but he hasn't been the same since he returned from Fort Worth."

"I am unsure of what you mean," Mattie said, her heart beginning to beat faster.

"Well, you know how he likes to talk," he said with a rueful smile.

"Yes."

"He spoke very highly of you these last few years. How you had 'more grit in your skinny little body'— pardon me miss— than twelve men put together. We couldn't get him to shut up about you, really. Then after the Roberts Gang, he told the boss he was staying in Fort Worth, because he had to keep an eye on something. Of course, we all knew it was you. Then when he returned last winter… " he trailed off, looking at her uneasily.

Mattie's heart was thudding against her ribs so loudly she could hear it in her ears.

The Captain met her eyes and held them with his intense gaze.

"He loves you," he said softly after a moment.

Mattie let out the breath she had been holding.

"Yes, I know."

And she did.

"That's why I have to go after him. What direction did he ride out? And I will need a horse. I took the train from Yell County, and I do not have my own."

Captain Crawford looked shocked

"Well, I'll be!" he let out with a laugh, and then apologized.

"Pardon me, Miss Ross. It is just that I am not accustomed to such directness from young women, nor finding them a horse so they can go riding off into the desert."

Mattie tilted her chin up defiantly.

"You will find I am not like most women, Captain Crawford."

The Captain nodded his acceptance and put on his hat.

"So be it. Now let's go find you a horse."  
______________________________________________________________________________________

Mattie rode north towards Dallas, her father's pistol strapped around her waist and her skirts whipping in the wind. It was bitterly cold, and there was the threat of snow in the air.

As she rode, her heart raced and thoughts flew through her head. What if the gunmen had killed him, or what if he was lying somewhere desperately injured? Fear made her urge her horse faster, the wind causing tears to stream from her eyes.

The afternoon wore on and the sun began to set, it began to snow, the wind growing colder and colder. Mattie began to lose hope that she would find LaBoeuf before nightfall, if at all, so she found a good place to make camp near a stream, protected from the worst of the wind by a cliff overhang. Tying up her horse, she went off to look for dry firewood under the cliff. As she walked long the overhang, she thought she heard voices carried over the wind. Creeping closer towards the voices, she peered around a large boulder that had fallen off the cliffs, and recognized LaBoeuf by the fringe on his coat.

He was standing with three men, presumably the gunmen. She couldn't hear their conversation over the wind, but suddenly LaBoeuf raised his pistol.

Mattie set down the firewood she had been holding, and cocking her pistol, crept forward. The snow was heavy, but she could make out the rough features of the man closest to her. One shouted and suddenly the three men reached for their guns, and Mattie shot one of the men in the chest. Before she could cock it again, there was a torrent of gunfire that rang out across the snowy desert. Smoke from the gunpowder mixed with the heavy snow and Mattie was unable to see what was happening.

Then as suddenly as it had started, the gunfire ended, and silence settled once again.

"Mr. LaBoeuf?" she called out tentatively.

There was no answer, and fear gripped her heart tight in her chest.

"Mr. LaBoeuf!" she shouted, holding her pistol out in front of her as she walked forward. Her arm was trembling, but there was nothing she could do to stop it.

Through the snow she could see one man standing.

"Mr. LaBoeuf?" she gasped out in a strangled sob, hoping to God that it was him.

And it was. He appeared before her through the snow like an apparition, his eyes registering shock as he recognized her.

"You're alive," she sobbed out, lowering her pistol with a shaky hand. "I feared you had been killed."

"Mattie?" he replied in a stunned voice. "How have you come to be here?"

"I—

But she stopped as she saw blood oozing through his fingers as he clutched his upper right arm.

"Mr. LaBouef! You've been shot!"

LaBoeuf grimaced and looked at his injury.

"I have had worse, as you may well remember. It is not bleeding much, I do not think I will die tonight."

Mattie walked around and looked at the back of his arm. There was an exit hole there, and relief filled her.

"How does it look?" LaBoeuf questioned, and there was a trace of anxiety in his tone.

"The bullet has exited," Mattie confirmed. "I will clean the wound as soon as we make camp for the night."

LaBoeuf looked up into the snowy sky. "The snow does not look like it will abate, and I do not fancy sleeping near the dead."

Mattie pointed back to where she had come from. "Beyond that ridge there was a good place to shelter from the wind and snow. I left my horse there."

At the camp, Mattie began building a fire with the few branches and brush she had found while LaBoeuf tied and fed the horses with his one good arm. The overhang sheltered the fire from the falling snow, so she put down a bedroll and ordered LaBoeuf to sit down.

"I will be fine—" LaBoeuf protested, but Mattie was already pulling off his coat.

"It is best to clean it to avoid infection," Mattie said firmly, ripping his shirt sleeve so she could see the bullet hole.

It was clean and not jagged, so retrieving a bottle of whiskey from his saddle bags, she poured it over the wound. LaBoeuf sucked in his breath at the pain, but she merely ignored it, and after dressing his arm with a piece of cloth ripped from her petticoats, she helped him pull his buckskin coat back on. He took the whiskey from her, and meeting her eyes, took a swig.

It was a defiant act, and one Mattie was unsure how to react to. She turned to the fire and began to prepare gruel. She could feel him watching her, and all her nervousness that she had forgotten in the face of his injury returned with such a force, her hand trembled.

LaBoeuf watched her silently, intermittently taking a drink of whiskey as he ate. Mattie stared at the ground, but glanced up occasionally, for fear he might disappear into the night like smoke from their fire. She had not seen him for almost a year; she wasn't about to let him out of her sight now.

Even so, she did not know how to begin explaining to him what she felt. To her relief, it was LaBoeuf who finally broke the silence.

"I found your letter."

"What letter?"

She was momentarily confused, but then remembered she had told him of the letter she wrote him years ago. The one he had never received.

"Oh," she said stupidly. "That letter."

"It was discovered under the Captain's desk a couple months back when he was having his office cleaned." LaBoeuf went on quietly. "I did not realize how much you had suffered. But I should have. And I am sorry that I did not come to visit you."

Mattie did not know what to say, so she remained silent.

"How did you know where I was?" he asked.

"I went to Austin to find you. Captain Crawford said you were gone pursuing men in a saloon fight. He gave me a horse and I came after you."

LaBoeuf stared at her in bewilderment.

"You came after me," he repeated slowly.

"Yes of course, you rodeo clown!" Mattie cried out in a burst of anger. She got to her feet. "I had no choice, as you were a fool enough to ride off pursuing three men by yourself!"

But LaBoeuf ignored the insult and also rose. He walked towards her until he was only an arm's length away.

"Why, Mattie?" He asked, his eyes mirroring her exhaustion and pain. "Why did you follow me?"

"Because—"

But her voice caught in her throat as the warmth radiating from his body and his familiar smell of musky leather threatened to send her knees buckling. She forced herself to take a step back, but she grabbed a hold of the front of his coat to support herself. He grasped her hand, not giving her time to let go.

"Because I wanted to tell you how I regret what happened the last time we met."

She tried to keep her voice steady, but she failed. The feel of his rough palm against her skin sent her nerves on fire.

"You came tearing after me into the desert to tell me you felt regret?" he pressed, his fingers caressing hers. "Is that all?"

"Because you were alone," she murmured, "and Captain Crawford said you didn't care whether or not you were killed."

She paused, and his fingers held hers tighter. Taking a deep breath, she let the last remnants of her pride go and said,

"But I care, Mr. LaBoeuf. I care a great deal if you are dead."

Her voice broke and she dropped her eyes to his chest. LaBoeuf grasped her chin and tilted it back up.

"I am deeply sorry for the pain I caused you," She continued in a stronger voice. "I was afraid that you asked me to marry you out of pity, and I couldn't bear it—"

"I have never once felt pity for you, Mattie Ross." He interrupted quietly. "From the moment you rode that damn horse across the river six years ago, I have thought you the bravest person I have ever met."

"I went to Austin to tell you what a fool I have been," she said, "To tell you how I suffered from your absence—"

LaBoeuf gently cupped his good hand around her cheek and leaned in towards her, his mouth inches from her own. She could smell the rich scent of whiskey on his breath, but it was not unpleasant.

"— and to tell you how much I love you," she whispered right before he gently pressed his wind chapped lips against hers.

After a moment she broke the kiss and tried to step back, but he stopped her by placing his arm around her waist. He leaned in to kiss her again but before he could, she blurted out, "I also wanted to ask if you would become my husband."

He stopped and opened his eyes, staring at her as if to decide whether she was jesting or not. After a moment, he let out a snort of amazement.

"Mattie Ross, you are the only woman alive that would have the grit to ask a man to marry her."

"Well, you don't have to say yes!" Mattie shot back, stung. She tried to pull away, but he only gripped her waist tighter.

"The Devil I don't," he replied in all seriousness. "Where else could I find a woman who calls me a dandy and a fool—not to mention, a rodeo clown— and points out all my faults with a tongue sharper than a pistol whip?"

Mattie opened her mouth to add "blustering peacock" and "big-timer" to his list, but before she could utter a word, his mouth was on hers and he was kissing her again, over and over, his fingers in her hair and on her face, and his body pressed against hers, warming her in the cold snow.

Mattie broke the kiss, shivering.

"No," She panted, putting her hand against his chest. "You are trying to make me insensible with your kisses, but I will not submit."

He pulled her back and kissed her again. She let out a whimper which he responded to with a gruff "Lord help me." It took all of Mattie's strength and will to push him away.

"Mr. LaBoeuf, I will not live in sin!" she protested.

"And I have a mind to thrown you down on this bedroll and take you right here in the snow," LaBoeuf growled.

"Such words do not make me take kindly to your advances, however welcome they might be," she said blushing, and taking a couple steps back. "And I do not suppose you will be doing much with only one arm available to you. I have six years more experience than you living with only the use of one limb. We must wait until we are married."

He opened his mouth as if to argue, but then let out a weary sigh.

"I am dead tired," he admitted, sitting back down on his bedroll.

"As am I," she replied, and she rolled out her bedroll next to his. They both lay down, pulling the saddle blankets up to their chins to keep out the cold wind.

After a few minutes of silence, LaBoeuf spoke:

"I have missed you," he said, so quietly, Mattie was not certain she had even heard him.

She didn't answer, and inches apart, but without touching, they went to sleep, comforted in knowing that at last they were no longer alone.


	11. Chapter 11

They left for Austin the following morning and by that evening they were married.

LaBoeuf had not wanted to wait. And truth be told, neither did Mattie, though she wasn't about to admit that to him.

LaBoeuf saw a doctor, and after writing a hasty letter to her mother, they found themselves at the courthouse before a judge. It was here where Mattie first learned LaBoeuf's given name. He glanced self-consciously at her as the judge spoke it, but she only looked back at him with the same serious expression she always wore. It hardly mattered. She would always call him 'LaBoeuf.'

As soon as they were pronounced man and wife, LaBoeuf took her to the Grand Hotel where they had steak and fried potatoes for supper. Before Mattie had finished her last bite, LaBoeuf grasped her by the hand and pulled her out of the dining room, ignoring her protests that they shouldn't waste the food God provided for them.

"If God makes me wait any longer, I might have to denounce him forever," LaBoeuf muttered as he pulled her up the street to the boardinghouse where LaBoeuf kept his rooms

"That is blasphemy," Mattie said in a pious voice. "God will—"

"Blasphemy is what I'm about to do to you," LaBoeuf interrupted as he opened the door. He dragged her up the stairs, then picked her up in his arms and carried her into his room. "And God will have to wait."

"Mr. LaBoeuf!" Mattie exclaimed. "Your arm!"

But she was silenced as his mouth covered hers.

"It is nothing," he said when he was finished with her mouth. He dropped her onto his bed and climbed on top of her, his fingers going to the buttons on her dress, kissing her again as he did so.

"Mr. LaBoeuf!" Mattie protested between kisses. "Mr. LaBoeuf!"

"What?" LaBoeuf murmured against her bared neck as he pulled her dress down.

"Please dim the lamp."

"No, you one-armed prude," LaBoeuf said, discarding her dress. "You are my wife, and I have the right to look at you."

"Perhaps I don't want to look at you," she replied tartly, but before she could say anything more, he was loosening the laces of her corset. He removed it along with her petticoats so that she lay before him in her chemise and drawers.

There was an intake of his breath as he took in the sight of her in the flickering lamplight, and Mattie could do nothing but stare back, feeling the heat in her face.

LaBoeuf unbuttoned his vest and shirt, discarding them along with her dress. His arm was bandaged. He was all corded muscle, sprinkled with a few scars. She reached up and touched one on his shoulder.

"Is this from…?" she trailed off, but sure of what his answer would be.

"Rooster Cogburn," he replied. Pulling her up to his chest, he traced his fingertips up her arm with one hand, and gently caressed the sensitive skin of her amputated elbow with the other. She shivered under his touch.

"I wonder where Mr. Cogburn is," she mused aloud, trying to ignore her lack of modesty as LaBoeuf pulled her chemise over her head.

She was sure her mother had never acted this way with her father.

"Is this really the time to be thinking about that one-eyed old coot?" LaBoeuf pronounced impatiently, unbuttoning her drawers and sliding them over her hips.

"Well, I am a one-armed prude," she mimicked back, and then grew serious. "But I have never wanted to kiss Rooster Cogburn."

Reaching up, he unpinned her hair and watched it tumble down across her breasts.

"If you ever want to kiss Rooster Cogburn, I would say you should have your head examined," He muttered, unbuttoning his trousers and pulling them off.

She blushed when she saw him naked, and blushed even harder when he pushed her back onto the bed, parted her knees, and gently settled himself on top of her.

"This will most likely cause you—" LaBoeuf started, but was cut off by Mattie placing her hand over his mouth.

"I am aware of how this works, Mr. LaBoeuf," she said. "I do not need to be coddled like an innocent child."

LaBoeuf's eyes crinkled up into a smile, and he gently removed her hand from his mouth.

"Not coddled, Mattie. Never that. But for once, please let me protect you?"

He gently cupped her cheek in his hand, his thumb brushing the skin under her eye.

"Please?"

He lowered his face and gently kissed her jaw where it met her neck.

But Mattie couldn't answer. She was too overwhelmed with the feeling of his bare skin on her own and the feathery touch of his lips on her body as he slowly moved his way down to—

"Oh, Lord in Heaven, smite me now!" she cried out.

Her mother had told her if she married, it would be her job, her duty, to submit to her husband. But she had never told her it would be like this. If this was submitting, Mattie had no doubt she would do it again…

And gladly.


	12. Chapter 12

Mattie opened her eyes to bright sunlight streaming through the window above her head. She blinked several times and then shifted slightly under the warm covers. Her arm came into contact with the warm body of LaBoeuf next to her and the corners of her mouth turned up into a small smile as she looked over at him. His blond eyelashes resting gently on his wind chapped cheeks, his lips slightly parted in sleep—he looked so vulnerable. Hesitantly, she reached out and brushed a lock of his hair of his face, her fingerings lingering over the sensitive skin of his ear. She shifted closer, her eyes roaming over his face, memorizing every feature.

Suddenly his eyes snapped open, startling her. 

“It is very disconcerting to wake and find oneself being stared at,” LaBoeuf said, his hand capturing hers, and pulling it down to his chest which was still bare. 

“I was merely wondering how I could have married such an old man,” she replied. She tried to pull away, but he wouldn’t let go. Instead he pulled her against him, causing her heart to beat faster.   
“I see,” he said softly. “And has this old man disappointed you?” 

Mattie was quiet a moment as she looked into his eyes. “No,” she admitted, “he has not.” 

“Good,” LaBoeuf whispered, slipping his hand down her shoulder to rest upon her hip. “Do you feel much pain?” 

Mattie blushed, but she did not turn away. “Only a little,” she admitted. There was the tiniest upturn of her lips. “It was nothing like having one’s arm amputated.”

LaBoeuf let out a guffaw which turned into a grunt of pain.

“What is it?”

LaBoeuf sat up, wincing slightly as he moved his injured arm. “I fear I might have overworked myself last night.”

Mattie sat up clutching the blankets to her chest with her hand. “Do you need a doctor?” she asked concernedly. “Shall I dress and fetch one?” 

LaBoeuf looked over at her, his eyebrows raised. “Dress? I believe I prefer you as you are.”

Mattie ignored him and tried to take a look at his wound. Instead he tried to kiss her.

“I think I should fetch you a doctor,” Mattie replied, avoiding his kiss. She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and tried to stand up, pulling the quilt with her. But LaBoeuf would not let it go.

“Mr. LaBoeuf, I insist you let me have the quilt,” Mattie ordered, pulling it again. But it was to no avail. Even injured he was too strong.

“And I insist that you stay in my bed, Mrs. LaBoeuf,” he ordered back, but there was a twinkle in his eyes. Mattie narrowed her own, and on a sudden whim she would later blush to think of, she dropped the bedclothes and stood before him naked. 

LaBoeuf’s intake of breath and loosened grip was all she needed to snatch the quilt off the bed. It slipped through his relaxed fingers before he realized what she had done.  
“I have to confess,” he said in a strained voice, “I did not expect such boldness from you.”

Mattie turned pink at his words as she wrapped herself in the quilt, her hair tumbling over her white shoulders. “And are you disappointed in me?” She parroted his earlier words.

LaBoeuf shook his head, still mostly naked. “No. No.” He gestured to her with his good arm. “Please, continue.”

She walked over to the wash basin but was aware of his eyes still on her.

“Please avert your gaze,” she said softly staring at him through the mirror.

“Mattie, you are my wife, and I will see you as you are.”

She felt her cheeks grow hot. “Yes, I know. But—but I must wash myself and I feel strange and embarrassed to have you see me in such a state.”

“It is only blood. You and I have seen much worse.”

Mattie did not reply, but picked up a towel and poured fresh cold water into the china basin. Wetting the linen, she let the quilt drop to her feet and began to wash the sticky mixture of blood and (she burned as she remembered the moment she felt him release inside her) semen from between her thighs. She was tender to the touch, but it was a wonderful sort of ache that made her aware of her skin and sinewy muscles in a way she had never known before. She felt like a woman.

When she was finished she turned around where LaBoeuf sat watching her, his eyes filled with something she could not put into words because she did not have the vocabulary to define it. Perhaps a re-reading of Solomon’s Song might give her some idea…

She dressed in silence, until she had donned her dress and suddenly asked, “Will you do my buttons?” 

LaBoeuf raised his eyebrows but did not say anything. He beckoned her over to him and did so, standing with her back to him.

LaBoeuf stood up slowly, and she could feel the heat from his body behind her. She swallowed hard as she felt the soft caress of his breath on her bare neck and the light touch of his fingertips just below her waist.

“Are you so certain you wish me to?” he whispered into her ear, sending shivers down her spine.

One of them had to stop this and she knew it could only be her.

“Mr. LaBoeuf, it is late morning!” she said in the most scandalized voice she could muster, whipping around to glare at him, “And you are in need a doctor! You are bleeding through!” She gently poked his bandaged wound and he let out a hiss of pain. 

“Yes! Yes!” LaBoeuf put up his hands in defense and backed away from her as though she were infected with smallpox. “Please! Fetch the doctor! I would rather he saw to my injury than submit any longer to your rough administrations.”

He buttoned her up the rest of the way, and she pulled on her boots and coat. Before she left, she leaned down and gave him a gentle kiss, which he let her do without taking control away from her.

“I will be back shortly,” she murmured against his lips. As she pulled away, he caught her hand and turned her back to him. 

“You had better be.” He was rubbing the soft skin of her wrist with his thumb, and it made her knees weak. “I do not care that it is late morning, or afternoon.”

“But the horses—”

“The horses are being tended to. The only thing I plan on tending to is my wife.”

Mattie let out the breath she had been holding. “We will see about that, Mr. LaBoeuf” she said with that rare smile that made his heart skip.

But LaBoeuf would not be attending to anything, least of all his wife. An infection had set in, and he was bedridden for two weeks.

Mattie did what little nursing she could, but it did not come to her naturally, and it nearly drove them both stir crazy. When they weren’t bickering, she kept him from boredom by reading aloud the newspapers and writing letters for him to his family, and to hers. It was especially pleasurable to write the letter to her mother announcing that the marriage had taken place and that she would bring him home to meet her properly once he was well enough to travel. Mattie could not help but smile as she saw the word “wife” scribbled out under the nub of her pen, though she was careful to keep it concealed from LaBoeuf. She didn’t know if she could bear to see his twinkling eyes and his knowing smile if he found out.

What she didn’t realize he too had something to hide. 

From his bed, LaBoeuf would watch her as she wrote at the small table in their room waiting for her to disappear in a puff of smoke. He didn’t know if it was delirium from his fever or because he had spent so long wanting her, dreaming of her—but he feared sometimes that she wasn’t really there, that it was another dream that he would awaken from and find himself alone in his tangled sheets as he had done so many times since he had left her in a drunken haze.  
Being bedridden was not something he was used to, and it made him feel helpless and angry, especially when Mattie took care of those things that he was supposed to take care of, being a man and her husband. 

And as those who have too much time on their hands often do, he began to think, and then he began to doubt. Thoughts drifted through his head, the most prevalent was that he shouldn’t have married her because he was too old for her. His rational mind said at fourteen she had already been something of an old woman—she wasn’t one of those twenty-something’s, head stuffed with nonsense. But even so, he wondered if he had made a mistake. With nothing to do he imagined all the horrible outcomes to all the “what if” situations he could think of.  
Mattie was obviously unaware of his troubled thoughts. Her cheeks were pink and no longer sallow, and her mouth no longer pinched. Her clothes somehow suited her, even the dratted bustle, and sometimes, he could see the corners of her lips turn up slightly before she would duck her head back down, scribbling away on a letter to her sister. It was plain to see that she was content. This only made him worry more, as he feared that he could not keep her that way.


	13. Chapter 13

It was almost three weeks since he had married Mattie, and LaBoeuf’s infection was gone and his wound healing well.

He was sitting at the small table in their sitting room eating an apple with his knife lost in his melancholy thoughts, when he heard a thudding on the stairs. Before he could get to his feet, Mattie burst through the door, her hair coming undone as a few pins clattered to the wooden floor beneath her feet. 

“Mattie, what is it?” LaBoeuf asked, his brow furrowing in concern. “What’s wrong?”

Triumphantly, Mattie held out two train tickets pressed between her thumb and forefinger.   
“I bought us tickets for the five o’clock train tomorrow to Yell County!” She replied with pride. “I’ve sent a telegram to my sister, Victoria, and she will meet us at the station when we arrive.”

LaBoeuf wrinkled his nose and set his half eaten apple down on the table. “Already?”

With a snort Mattie set the tickets on the table and pulled his valise out from under the bed and began pulling his clothes out of the closet and ceremoniously dumping them into the valise. “You’ve been out of bed for a week, and we cannot stay here forever. It’s time to go home.”

“Yell County is not my home, “LaBoeuf said before thinking. 

Mattie spun around and stared at him, her mouth pinching. “What do you mean by that?”

Her tone was frosty, but he wasn’t going to let her off the hook. “I am from Texas, Mattie, and I am a Ranger. If I am going to continue—”

“A Ranger?” she said in a deadly stern voice, he just knew she had used with her students. “You still desire to be a Ranger, and leave me to worry while you go rambling about the country getting shot at by thieves and murderers? 

“Mattie—” LaBoeuf said in a warning tone. 

“No. I will approve of any vocation you had mind to take up, other than Ranging or Marshalling, or any other such dangerous occupation, but—”

But LaBoeuf had already lost his temper. Slamming his knife down on the table, he stood up and faced her. “Mattie! I will not let you dictate to me what I will or will not do. I am a Texas Ranger. That is what I am, and that is what I will be. You are my wife, but you do not have any say in how I will support you, do you understand me?”

She only stared at him which infuriated him even more. 

“I said, do you understand me?”

“I am not deaf, nor dumb,” she said acidly, throwing a shirt into the valise. “I understand every word you say.”

“Good.” He replied, sitting down and taking up his knife. They were silent as Mattie finished throwing things into his valise, making as much noise as she could. She finally snapped the damn thing shut and stomped across the floor to the door which she promptly flung open and went through, slamming it shut behind her.

LaBoeuf let out a weary sigh, but before he had time to think about what had just happened, the door swung open again, and Mattie stuck her head in—“But we are going to Yell County!” She snapped, “where I will properly introduce you to the rest of my family, do you understand _me_?”

She did not wait for a reply, but slammed the door so hard the glass in the window panes rattled. LaBoeuf seethed in silence, taking it out on the rest of his apple with his knife. After a moment, he threw the apple across the room, swearing as he did so. It knocked over his hat and bounced under the bed where he didn’t bother to retrieve it.

They did not speak for the rest of the day, and though they slept side by side that night, they did so back to back, both too proud to turn to the other and ask for forgiveness. By the following afternoon as they boarded the train to Yell County, the air between them was palpable with tension.

The train rolled north and the sun began to set. When darkness fell, Mattie fell asleep, her head gently nodding until it was resting on LaBoeuf’s shoulder. They had not touched intimately since that first night due to his injury and it had been only a few nights since they had shared the same bed again. LaBoeuf had sorely missed her comforting touch, having felt it only briefly before it was torn away from him by illness and then by her anger and his own. He felt his anger drain away and in that moment he longed to make things right again—but he didn’t know how, and it only fueled his worry that he had made a mistake in taking Mattie to bed and marrying her so soon. Though she was often wise beyond her years, she was so young—stubborn, and he worried that when he died, as he most surely would before her, she would be alone and would have no one to care for her. She could marry again—but he didn’t even want to think about that. 

Pushing the thoughts from his mind, he allowed himself to be lulled by the gentle rocking of the train and soothed by the warmth of his wife. It wasn’t long before exhaustion overcame him and he fell asleep.

He was woken suddenly by the shrieking whistle of the train and the conductor bellowing as he passed through the car, “Yell County! Next stop, Yell County”

Rubbing his sore neck, LaBoeuf looked down and found Mattie staring at him. She quickly turned away and began to gather her coat and hat. The pinched lines around her mouth were back and doubt again reared its ugly head within LaBoeuf’s chest. 

“I’ll collect the luggage,” he muttered, getting to his feet. He did not look back.

As LaBoeuf stepped off the train into the bright sunlight and set down their luggage. Spurned automatically by the manners his mother had beaten into him, he turned to help Mattie off the train to find her passing right by him.

“Mattie!” A voice called over the din of the crowded station. “Mattie, over here!”

LaBoeuf brushed off the hurt he felt at being dismissed and looked up to see a pretty woman waving her hand in the air. Mattie was soon by her side he could only assume it was her sister. He picked up the luggage and walked through the slush and snow over to the two women.

“I’ve missed you,” he heard Mattie say as he approached, her voice warm with feeling, and it made his insides ache to hear it.

“But you are here now,” Victoria replied with a smile that lit up her face. “And you have brought us a new member of our family,” she said turning to LaBoeuf. 

LaBoeuf tipped his hat and gave her a polite smile. “Pleased to meet you, ma’am.”

“I think I was but a child the last time I saw you,” Victoria replied, her eyes twinkling merrily. “You were as handsome then, as you are now.”

“Victoria!” Mattie admonished as they walked towards the waiting covered buggy. 

“Oh, pooh,” She scoffed with a toss of her fur covered head. “Samuel will be pleased to have another man to talk to, poor dear. He’s been surrounded by too many women folk for so long!”

“What of Frank?” Mattie asked? 

“Frank is still a boy,” Victoria replied. “And he is like you—more interested in sums and The Bible than horses and rifles.”

They loaded their luggage up into the back of the buggy and LaBoeuf shook Samuel’s hand, and the man gave him an easy grin. There was something about the man that made LaBoeuf like him instantly. 

Mattie and Victoria sat in the back, while Samuel and LaBoeuf sat in the front speaking of horses, and farming, and of what it was like being a Texas Ranger. Samuel seemed slightly in awe of him, which made him feel both proud and fatherly. 

Through the swells of their conversation, LaBoeuf heard Victoria chatting away behind him, Mattie quiet as a mouse. LaBoeuf supposed this was normal, because she seemed completely at ease with her sister. When she was with him, it was he that struggled to be heard over her. 

Mattie and her sister; they were as different as night and day. Victoria was bright, blonde, and very much the type of woman LaBoeuf had always thought he would want as a wife. Mattie in turn was dark, sober, but in some ways more beautiful than her sister. While Victoria burned with an energy that shone like sunlight, Mattie was more of an ember, her fire deep within, waiting to be unleashed when her passion was kindled. Having been many times the man who had kindled that ember, LaBoeuf felt a deep sorrow at the idea of it being extinguished—and that he might be the one to extinguish it. 

Melancholy, he grew silent and withdrawn. Samuel wisely said nothing but turned his eyes back to the road in front of him. 

It wasn’t much longer before they pulled up to a white washed farmhouse surrounded by bare willows, with a red barn and pasture in the back. The small stream that ran by was mostly frozen with dead pussy willows lining the banks. 

It was just as LaBoeuf remembered, but also changed somehow. It was more alive, even in the dead of winter, than he recalled from his first time here so long ago. Perhaps it was because he now knew Mattie so well that he could see her in this place. He could see the house where she grew up surrounded by those who loved and despaired over her. 

Brought out of his thoughts by the slamming of a wooden screen door, he looked up to see Mrs. Ross hurrying towards them, her hands stretched out in front of her. Thinking she was going to Mattie, he was taken by surprise when it was he that she came to first, grasping his hands and pulling him down from the buggy. 

“Oh, Mr. LaBoeuf,” she said breathlessly, her eyes sparkling with joy. “My son-in-law. Why I never thought I would see my Mattie married—let alone to a Texas Ranger!”

LaBoeuf heard Victoria let out a giggle that was quickly smothered by a hand to her mouth. He had no doubt it was probably Mattie’s. Though taken unawares, LaBoeuf never one for being speechless; he tipped his hat to her and said, “You are very kind ma’am. I am pleased to find you in better health than the last time we spoke.”

Her mouth tightened slightly as a cloud of pain passed over her eyes. “Yes, that was a very…trying time for me,” she said. 

“I am sorry for your loss,” he murmured, unsure what else to say. She gave him a pat on the hand and sad little smile. 

“Thank you, you are very kind,” she replied softly. 

“Yes, thank you, Mr. LaBoeuf!” Victoria exclaimed a little too cheerfully as Samuel helped her down from the buggy. “It was so long ago, but we do miss father, don’t we, Mattie?”

Mattie, who was right behind Victoria, faltered a little, her face turning as gray as the clouds in the sky above her. LaBoeuf instantly grasped her hand to steady her and help her down from the buggy. She didn’t look at him, but went instantly to her mother and wrapped herself in her arms, the empty sleeve of her coat swinging with the movement. It was a constant reminder of loss—the loss of a father and the loss of childhood. Victoria gently laid her head on her mother’s shoulder.

Feeling the intruder, LaBoeuf turned from the family and looked out over snow covered barn and the dead field where the cotton Mattie was always so proud of would grow come spring. As much as he loved his home state of Texas, he had to admit it was beautiful here. Very beautiful.

“Where is Frank?” Mattie asked, bringing LaBoeuf’s attention back to the present. 

“In the barn, dear, the last place he wishes to be,” her mother replied with a smile. “He’d much rather have his nose in a book. Don’t you worry; he’ll be in for supper later.” She turned to LaBoeuf and took his hand. “Now let’s get you inside. You must be frozen to the bone, poor man!”

Ignoring Mattie’s eye roll, he let himself be led inside to the warm comfort of the Ross home.

The afternoon was spent drinking coffee around the kitchen table while the fire in the hearth burned brightly. LaBoeuf talked with Mrs. Ross about his childhood and working as a Texas Ranger, while Mattie boiled water and added enough coffee beans to make a dark brew, just the way he liked it, LaBoeuf noticed. She didn’t look at him when she set his mug down with clatter, and LaBoeuf’s heart sank. She must still be angry with him.

Samuel joined them while Mattie hovered over the stove. LaBoeuf wished she would come sit next to him, but her back was stiff and straight, and he knew if he tried to touch her, she would only pull away. Outside it began to snow again and at last Frank came, stamping snow from his boots. He was no longer the “little Frankie” LaBoeuf remembered peeking out from behind his mothers skirts all those years ago, but had grown into a tall young man with broad shoulders, and hair the same color as Mattie’s.

LaBoeuf stood up to shake his hand, and was glad to feel it was strong and warm. He had Mattie’s brown eyes, but while hers were usually solemn, his sparkled with humor. 

“It is good to meet you, sir,” he said in a respectful voice. “I am glad my sister has a husband such as you to take care of her. We always thought she’d be alo—”

“Frank! Shut up!” Mattie interrupted harshly causing Frank to step back in shock. Mattie’s eyes flashed in anger and resentment as she glared at everyone in the room. “I don’t need a husband to look after me. I can take care of myself, and all of you, as I always have! You should remember that!”

And with that, she grabbed her coat, and flinging the door open stalked out into the snow. 

Ignoring the stunned silence that her family seemed to be paralyzed by, LaBoeuf, cursing under his breath, strode out after her. 

“Mattie!” he called, stomping through the blowing snow, trying to keep her coat in sight as she went towards the barn. “Mattie!”

She refused to look back, but opened the barn and went inside. He followed her.

He found her with her head against the horse called Scout, which he recalled from the time she had run off to bring back a little boy to his mother and find justice for a woman no one else had the courage to do justice for. 

“Mattie,” he said softly, “Mattie, look at me.”

He placed his hands on her stiff shoulders and forcefully turned her to face him, but did not meet his eyes. He tilted her chin up and she reluctantly caught his gaze.  
“You regret marrying me,” she said flatly. “I saw it in your face the day I bought the train tickets.”

“I—” But LaBoeuf didn’t know what to say. Had he been so transparent?

“I don’t need you, Mr. LaBoeuf,” she said stiffly pulling away from him, but he wouldn’t let her go.

“Mattie,” he said forcefully, “It isn’t what you think. I have doubts, yes, but it is because I am so much older than you, I will surely leave you alone and uncared for—”  
“I can take care of myself!” she cried out. “Why is it that no one thinks I can care for myself?”

“Of course you can, but I never, ever want you to have to,” LaBoeuf said, his voice cracking. “I want you to live a good life with a man that can give you everything and be there for you until you are old and gray, and I—” he faltered, looking at his feet. “I will almost surely die before you and that it something I cannot bare to think of. Mattie, you are my wife, but I fear that I was selfish in marrying you. I fear that I will only bring you greater sorrow.”

Instantly her hand was on her hip and she looked as formidable as he had ever known her to be. 

“That is the worst excuse to doubt marrying me, Mr. LaBeouf! I would—will never marry another, even if he were the King of—of—it hardly matters!” She sputtered angrily. 

LaBeouf shook his head in frustration. “Mattie, Christ almighty—”

“Do not take the Lord’s name in vain,” she interrupted in that haughty voice she always took on when he swore or used the name of God in any context other than prayer or citing scripture—“And fifteen years!” she exclaimed, throwing her hand up in the air. “I am not a child, Mr. LaBoeuf! I love you more than anything! More than my own being!” She pressed her fist against her chest, over her heart. “A few years with you would mean more to me than a lifetime with a lesser man, because they are all lesser men in comparison to you. I have only known three men in my life worth the ground they trod; Rooster Cogburn, my father, and you.”

For not the first time in his life she had rendered him speechless—and he wasn’t even upset to be grouped in the same category as Rooster Cogburn. 

“And—” she continued, her face took on a pained expression as she closed her eyes before finishing, “—I would even be willing—no, be glad to live in Texas,” She opened her eyes and looked directly into his, “if that would make you happy. For that is what I want more than anything. For you to be happy, because you have made me the happiest I have ever known, and I would die before I let you go again.”

He took her hand in his, bringing it to his mouth where he gently kissed her knuckles. She stepped closer to him pressed her forehead against his.

“I would die,” she repeated.

LaBoeuf’s shoulders sagged. “But Mattie, I know nothing but of finding criminals and bringing them to justice,” he whispered shamefaced “If I cannot be a Ranger, I fear I do not have any means to support you.”

His words hung in the air between them, LaBeouf raw with vulnerability.

“But, Mr. LaBoeuf,” she said softly,” I know a great deal about working land. I could teach you and we could work together to create the life we wish. And perhaps—there might be a place, a town somewhere that needs a Sheriff. Would you mind ever so much if life got—a little less exciting?”

LaBoeuf laughed softly and pulled her close. “Oh, Mattie, my darling Mattie,” he murmured. “I do not mind in the least. Forgive me for my stubbornness and my pride.”

“Only if you forgive me mine,” Mattie mumbled into his shoulder. “I have behaved very badly towards you.”

“No more than I have towards you. But promise me one thing.”

She looked up at him, a serious expression on her face.

“Promise me we will never go to bed angry, for of all the curses you have thrown at me, I admit that one hurt the worst.”

“Never again,” Mattie promised, flinging her arm around his neck. 

He lifted her slight body off the ground and buried his face in her hair. She smelled of the winter snow and the coffee she had made earlier—and of home—for it didn’t really matter where he lived as long as she was there beside him. His heart belonged to her and wherever she went he would always follow, for she was his home. 

Mattie, her heart bursting with hope and happiness, looked out over his shoulder into the falling snow where the oil lamps burned brightly in the windows, beckoning them into the warmth and safety of the house. 

Unable to keep it inside any longer, she smiled.

LaBoeuf’s head turned slightly toward her. “Are you smiling, Mrs. LaBoeuf?” he asked in a teasing tone. 

“No, my Texas jaybird, not at all.”

She turned towards him until their lips brushed together. She felt the warmth of his breath and then she kissed him, grasping the fringe of his leather coat. After a moment she broke away and smiled up at him with all the love she had.

“Not at all.”

 

The End


End file.
